Dwarf Gold (Or The Cautiousness of Hanah Skinner)
by Vargavinter
Summary: When Hanah's and her little sister Hemery's father dies, the business that puts food on their table is threatened. The saving grace comes in the form of four visiting dwarves. But will the gold they earn really keep the girls safe? Fili/OC. Post-quest. Warning for violence and sexual scenes.
1. Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Death

Chapter 01 An Unexpected Death

The peltmaster was dead. His hare hunt had gone too long. In the northern winter, hunting everything with a white coat, he had only eaten hare and rabbit for weeks. Hanah had heard of the long eared hunter-killer. Some said it was superstition, that surely poisonous plants or berries had killed them, others had looked in the backpack of the various hunters laying stiff in the snow, noticed the fresh skins and drawn the conclusion that too much rabbit could kill you. Nothing flourished on the moors except rabbits and their predators. Not to mention that no self-respecting pelt hunter would eat fermented, frozen berries rather than rabbit. This was how Hanah and her little sister Hemery found themselves orphaned at the ages of eighteen and twelve.

Their mother had died when Hemery was still an infant. Hanah and Hemery had spent more time in the workshop with their father than by the warm hearth of their mother. Their trousers were made of leather beneath their tunics. Their supper of cold, smoked meat. Their backs were not strong enough for more than tightening a trap noose, but their hands were calloused and tough from pushing needles through animal hides.

They did not grow tall or round faced, but when their father told them about the craft they performed—stories about the mason with the hard gloves Hemery made and the houses he built; the smith whose fire resistant apron Hanah prepared and the weapons he forged; the dyed coat embroided with silver thread and carved bone beads their father made for the landlord in town; what they did, who they were, and stories they had all told him when he had met them, about elves and dwarves and kings and dragons and battles—Hanah and Hemery felt strong through the confidence and knowledge their father shared, and tall enough to see it all through their minds eye, like the bird sees the world from its branch in the pine.

Hanah did not feel strong or tall now. Father's strength had been just enough to get him home, collapse in his chair in front of the fire in the big room, and order his daughters to unpack the frozen block of stacked skins and prepare them, before shutting his eyes in exhaustion. When they tried to raise him for supper, he did not stir.

Hanah shoveled and hacked a shallow grave in the frozen slope behind the cottage and covered it with stones. The sisters continued the habits they kept when Father was away. Finished the orders, the gloves, the aprons, the boots, the bracelets. Went to market, collect on their work, take new orders. Buy cheese, flour, salt, blades, needles. Traded with the butcher for cattle skins. Went home again.

The fact that the peltmaster was not at the market at Blackwater Ridge with his daughters was not unusual. The town was placed halfway between the Iron Hills and Erebor, surrounded by moors and woods where rabbit, fox, and wolf was common. He had always been busy, hunting, working. No one asked where he had gone to. Hanah did not know what she would have answered if they had. They needed the coin the work of the peltmaster brought in. Would they still recieve commissions if people knew that there was no peltmaster? Hanah was young, but she was not stupid. No one would pay a girl and a child for anything more than bootlaces, that was for sure and certain. But none asked, so she did not say.

Neither did Hemery. She was very quiet after Father passed. Hanah did not blame her. She had reminded Hemery of what Father had said to her when Mother died about the halls of their ancestors where their spirits travelled when they left their bodies. But Hanah did not remember the vivid details Father had provided. Where was this hall, and how did one get there? Hemery was not convinced. Hanah could imagine every piece of gold in a treasure guarded by a dragon she had never seen, picture every snow flake on top of the Iron Hills, but she could not explain death to her little sister.

Thus, a month passed.

* * *

Stark white bedlinnen covered the down mattress, but Hanah could feel one or two feather pens through the fabric. She lay on her back, her tunic pulled up to her waist. Graham's breath on her neck, his weight on her chest. A moment ago he had been a flurry of movement and passion. She had even been a bit curious herself. There had been a tingle in her belly when he kissed her neck, but by the time he had reached his destination—it was gone. The burning pain of his entry had made sure it stayed gone. Hanah thought the pain was only part of the first time. Perhaps it was normal. Or perhaps she was doing something wrong. Fortunately, he had not kept going for long.

Now he lay heavily upon her, as if asleep. The house was quiet, but Hanah could hear the busy street outside the window. Horse hooves, people shouting. Tiny grains of dust floated in the sunbeam shooting across the room. She had to return to the market stall soon. Hemery was waiting. She had been going to buy something for their midday meal when she had come upon Graham in the street. He had said he missed her and wanted to talk.

"When we're married," he began as he turned over on his back, "we can do this whenever we want. Don't have to hide."

"Mmm." Hanah sat up and fixed her tunic. Then she pulled out the fastening in her hair to redo the braid.

"When will your father be back?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"I need to speak to him about ... arrangements. A lot has to be done before the wedding."

"I know. How soon can we marry, do you think?

"Not sure. Midsummer maybe?"

Hanah's heart sank.

"What if my father won't agree?"

"He will."

She finished her hair and turned to look at him. "But what if he won't?"

He smiled. "We'll find a way. Don't worry." He sat up and kissed her, one hand finding her breast. She kissed him once and then pulled away.

"I have to go."

Hanah left the house of Graham's father on light feet, but with a sick feeling in her stomach. She did not like to lie to Graham about her father. While the engagement had been agreed to by both fathers, much of the traditions remained unperformed. She had hoped Father would not need to be involved, but Graham kept asking to see him. She was afraid there would be problems or, even worse, the wedding cancelled if he was absent.

She had devised an alternative plan—Hanah would make herself pregnant with Graham's child. Then he would be forced to marry her with or without her father present. Graham was the son of the most prominent tradesman at Blackwater Ridge. She and her sister would be taken care of. No more worry about making ends meat, about living alone, no more sleepless nights. They would have protection.

Not that she wanted to leave her childhood home, but they were not safe. If people knew two girls lived alone at the edge of town—she did not want to think about it.

Hemery gave her a scrutinizing look when Hanah returned to their table in the marketplace.

"What?" Hanah asked innocently.

Her sister did not speak.

"I bought fresh cheese," Hanah coaxed, producing a loaf of newly baked bread and soft, creamy, white cheese with herbs wrapped in paper.

"The landlady's maid was here," Hemery suddenly said.

Hanah forced herself to show no reaction. "What did she want?"

"She said Father should remember to fulfill his contract by the end of the week if he likes to do business in this town."

Hanah's stomach dropped. Father's contract. _Father._ She must have meant the coat he had been working on before . . . before he left. _Father._ It was different to other coats he had made. Prepared carefully. Water resistant. He had even begun to decorate it with beads before . . . before he left. _Father._ That was why he needed the rabbit furs, of course. The white against the tar black leather. It would be beautiful, Father. _Father._ What am I supposed to do? Hanah's stomach flipped.

She smiled at Hemery.

"Rich people sure can afford to be cheeky, can't they?"

Hemery just looked at her.

"It's alright," Hanah said. "I'll finish it myself."

Hemery said nothing.

* * *

The coat. That was what Father had called it. But it was much more than that. Dyed black with the first stitches outlining a flowing pattern of silver thread and white beads that Hanah could see in her head would become the waves on a dark water, or stars in a deep black sky. The white rabbit fur for the inner lining, keeping the wearer warm in any season. That was why he was out for so long, she thought, to collect enough rabbit skins to cover the entire inside. She knew the potential of that coat. How it could be transformed into the finest piece she had ever seen. Made for somthing other than working. Made for standing tall with squared proud shoulders.

Hanah looked at it a long time every morning before starting to work on something else. Always something else. Father would be rolling over in his frozen grave if he knew how the coat sat untouched at his workbench. Unfinished, neglected. But she had not had the nerve to pick it up. She had so many alternatives, so many ideas on how to complete it. In the evening, in the firelight, she drew possible patterns, possible cuts. Drew on every paper in the house, paper that had been wrapped around meat and cheese they had bought at the market. She added paper to the shopping. But Hanah had never done anything like this before, and not bearing the thought that she might make a mistake and ruin Father's last commission, she had left it. Now, the day had come when she could put it off no longer. Despite the question ringing in her head—how in all of Arda could she do this in a week?—she had no choice.

When they got home from market that night, Hemery prepared supper and Hanah searched the workshop top to bottom for specifics on the coat. Measurements, designs, a receipt, anything. She found nothing, of course. Father rarely wrote anything down. Hanah herself could read very little. Signs above certain shops. Names of food—mutton, fish, bread. Materials—steel, iron, silver. Some numbers to keep account of sales. She did not know what came after a hundred hundreds, but she knew a pair of new leather boots were worth twenty-five silver coins. No more, no less.

She also knew people rarely asked for specifics when placing orders with Father. The creative choices already made to the coat was probably the only that were expected; the beading, the thread, the fur. It would have to remain sleeveless, since she did not know the arm length. A slit at the back to allow for walking and riding would have to be cut from the bottom to at least half leg height. The beading would need to be sparer than she originally thought, no time to cover the entire upper body.

Over the next six days, no more trips were made to the market. Though the trip was short, Hanah refused to let Hemery go alone. Hanah herself would not leave the workshop for anything but food and sleep. She still spent a long time just looking at it every morning, going over the steps in her mind like a puzzle. Deciding and undeciding on the best course of action, like weaving the plan and tearing it up all over again.

When she came to the slit in the back, she measured it carefully to make sure it was centered and straight before taking the knife to the task with an apology to Father under her breath.

* * *

Hanah walked to the Big House with the coat carefully rolled up in layers of cotton and carried in a shoulder bag. Of course, it was supposed to be used without fear of tearing or ruining the decorations, but she was not taking any chances. The product was always supposed to be delivered in perfect condition. Hemery was close behind her.

Hanah stopped in the busy street outside the gate and turned to her sister.

"I want you to stay 'ere."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm only gonna deliver the order. I'm gonna look like a beggar girl with no kin who can't leave 'er sister at home."

Hemery's eyes darkened, but she did not speak.

"I'm deliverin' the peltsmaster's order and gettin' paid. He wants me back at the workshop soon as possible. Can't dawdle with a bairn on my heels."

"I'm not a bairn," Hemery protested.

"I know. But they don't." Hanah put a hand on her shoulder. "Stay 'ere."

Hemery nodded. Hanah steps through the gate. Horses and carriages were being prepared in the yard. Unusually many people around the Big House. Perhaps the landlord was planning a journey.

Straight forward there were a large double door heading into the heart of the building, but Hanah chose the smaller door off to the side. She had come with Father on a few deliveries to big houses around Blackwater. She knew she was expected to use the servants entrance.

Hanah knocked and was let in by a maid in a grey shapeless dress and a head cloth. She looked very proper and put together, Hanah thought, despite clearly being a maid, and Hanah became self-conscious of her own hair which was only long enough to braid into a plait from the top of her head to her shoulder. They did not own a looking glass, so she really had no way of knowing how it actually looked. But it was a windy, cold, early spring day, and she could feel stray hairs that had come loose tickling her face and neck, and not in charming locks either.

Her leather trousers were covered to the knees by a linnen tunic which in turn was covered and bound by a leather vest and belt. It only accentuated her feel of being a wildling in this pristine household.

"I come with the order from the peltsmaster," Hanah declared. The maid nodded in affirmation and left Hanah in the hallway connecting the kitchen to a big corridor leading to the main part of the house. Voices echoed toward her. She was able to make out "lord Brage" and "trapper." Hanah did not want to eavesdrop, but how could she help but hear what was obviously the usual talk about her low craft without putting fingers in her ears and humming?

The maid appeared in a door opening. Hanah took this as a sign to follow. She was shown into what looked like a dining hall with red tapestries hanging from the cieling, except that the long table was filled with papers, candles, quills and ink bottles as if it were a desk. Lady Brage sat at the table. Her hair was black as a raven's, but grey streaks shot from her temples into an intricately braided bun pulled so tight that Hanah was sure she had more wrinkles on her face in the evening when she loosened her hair.

Servants went in and out now and then, silently handing over or receiving pieces of paper and occasionally brief instructions.

"Well," lady Brage finally said without looking up. "Don't just stand there. Show me."

Hanah tore her eyes away from the exquisite decorations. Since the last servant left just left the room, Hanah assumed she was the one addressed. She hurried to unfasten the the package. Carefully, she unfolded the coat as quickly as possible and held it up by the arm openings.

After a moment, lady Brage laid down her quill and raised her eyes. Her face made no change, it was as indifferent as her voice when she looked the coat up and down. She stood from the table and came to stand in front of Hanah. She was much taller than Hanah, especially since she held herself like an iron rod, neck straight, shoulders back, posture impeccable in a dark green dress with sleeves skimming the floor.

But as she came closer, Hanah noticed the sickly pale complexion, the red rimmed but dry eyes which darted like a birds. Forcefully focused as if she was trying to see in a world of darkness.

Unceremoniously, she plucked the garment from Hanah's grasp, turned it over and around, inside out, examining the stitching, then practically threw it back at Hanah.

"It's too wide. The design is foreign. The inside is covered with fur instead of the edges. And there's a cut in the back. It is supposed to be a ceremonial robe, not an elven travelling cloak."

Hanah was taken aback, gaping while desperately trying to fold the coat in her arms without it touching the floor.

"You . . . You don't want it?" Hanah managed. "My lady?" she remembered to add.

"This is not what I ordered. You may leave." Lady Brage turned back to the table.

"But, my lady," Hanah burst out. "The master has worked on this for . . ." She paused. He had not actually worked on it the entire time since the order, and neither had she, but _he had died for this coat_. "This is the finest work the master has ever made." Which was true. "How can you not want it?" It was incomprehensible to Hanah. She could not grasp the idea that the item, which was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, could be rejected so completely.

The woman turned back. Her eyes wider. From surprise or anger Hanah could not tell.

"The garment does not fit the purpose. It is _useless_."

Hanah was aware that people around them had stopped in their tracks and observed the interaction, too wary to interrupt.

"My lady," Hanah tried. "Changes can be made. It doesn't have to—"

"I will not pay for it," lady Brage raised her voice.

"But it was made especially—"

"Nor will I ever pay _the peltmaster _for anything in the future. You. May. Leave."

Hanah felt her cheeks burn, but lowered her head, gathered her package and turned to go. She brushed past the maid and the other servants on her way from the room, only looking up when she realized her path was blocked. In the entrance appeared lord Brage with several men whom Hanah assumed were servants and personal guards, but it did not make the situation any less humiliating. Among them were a handful shorter men, stocky and long haired, with dour expressions.

_Dwarves_, Hanah realized with an icy fist gripping her chest. They must be dignitaries from one of the neighboring dwarf kingdoms, she thought. She had not only embarrassed her father and his work, she had openly defied and been reprimanded by Lady Brage in front of Lord Brage and his guests. It was beyond mortifying.

"I beg your pardon," she muttered before going the long way around the group and escaped through the hallway, past the kitchen, and out into the yard. Outside the door she paused to fold the coat properly, rolled it up in the bag and tossed it over her shoulder.

"What happened?" Hemery asked when she appeared in the street.

"Nothin'," Hanah replied, without breaking stride. Hemery followed, trying to keep up with Hanah's quick steps. "She did not think it would fit, that's all." Hanah blinked back tears of shame, keeping her face averted from her sister. Hanah bit the skin of her dry lips as they walked home.

"Who will buy it now?" Hemery asked.

"No one. If it's not fit for the landlord, then it's not fit for givin' away."

"What will we do with it?"

"We'll take it apart. Use the beads and the fur for somethin' else. Take the water proof leather for boots."

Hemery's eyes went wide. "But it's father's—!"

"Father's not here!" Hanah interrupted, but continued in a softer voice. "We can't let it go to waste. We need to sell what we can. We can't keep it just cause we like it. It'd be ridiculous."

She put her arm around Hemery's shoulders.

The next morning, Hanah sent her sister to the workshop to pack their usual bags of boots, laces, belts, and other wear and tear items for the market. Hanah prepared breakfast and packed food for later. Suddenly she heard the sound of heavy hooves on the gravel outside the cottage. They rarely had visitors. Especially not visitors that could afford horses. Hanah darted to the door and tore it open.

Four ponies stood in the yard. Strong animals with thick fur and short legs, carrying four long haired, bearded, fur wearing dwarves.


	2. Chapter 2 - Unexpected Expectations

Thank you to my lovely beta DistortedLullabies!

* * *

Chapter 02 Unexpected expectations

Hanah froze and stared. Two of the dwarves had dismounted, one holding the ponies' reigns. The other was a few feet closer to the workshop, where Hemery stood in the doorway, watching the strangers. If Hemery had been a cat, her back would have been taut as a pine bow pulled to a fox trap. Hanah could tell by her lowered chin and her hands that gripped the doorframe forbiddingly, Hemery did not approve of the dwarves' presence at their home.

"Good morning." She addressed the one who had been nearest her sister, but the attention of all the dwarves were directed at her now. She had never met dwarves before, but she had heard they were as harsh and stubborn as the mountains they lived in. Seemed to prefer rock to people. Or perhaps just men.

Hanah could not allow herself to show any fear, and she could not let them know that she and her sister were alone.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"We were told this is the home of the trapper."

"Not trapper; _peltmaster_. Finest leathers and furs as you's ever seen." Hanah quickly regretted her rash comment, but she could not stand to hear people talk about Father as if he was, had been, some common squirrel catcher.

The dwarf smirked, a blond braid of his mustache hitched up a fraction.

"Very well." He held up his hands in a placating manner. "I would like to do business with _the peltmaster_."

"You want something from the shop?"

"I suppose that is where he makes his masterpieces."

Hanah did not like his tone, but bit her tongue. She closed the door to the cottage behind her. Hemery reluctantly moved into the workshop when Hanah opened the door wide for the dwarf to enter. Though he was not much taller than her, he was broadshouldered enough that Hanah thought he would not fit through the door. Not with those thick layers of fur. And was that armour underneath? She soon found out as all four of the dwarves followed Hanah and Hemery inside the shop. Hanah went to tidy up the work area while the dwarves surveyed the finished items on their shelves and tables. It was not exactly a showroom, but it was a good sample of what they made. Fireproof aprons, gloves, and boots. Water resistant coats, tunics and trousers. Fur mittens, hats and more.

The dwarves' boots and chainmail chinked heavily when they walked on the floorboards. Looking, lifting, prodding, trying, testing. The sisters had to move out of the way several times to allow them room to examine every apparel and every accessory. Sometimes they would rumble things to each other in another language and laugh. Hanah gritted her teeth. She considered going outside until they were finished, but dismissed the idea; she would not be forced out of her father's shop, no matter who rummaged around in there.

"Is this all?"

Hanah spun around facing one of them. This one had no mustache or beard, but long black hair and inquiring eyes.

"Yes," Hanah replied. "Did you expect something else?"

"The coat from yesterday."

Hanah spun around again to the blond one who came to stand on her other side.

"With silverthread like water and fur white as snow," he explained. His smile and dramatic words made her think he was insincere, but his eyes were serious.

She pulled out the package from under the bench and unfolded it for their view. They crowded the table, touching and tugging on the seams, making Hanah wince, but she did not say anything. It was supposed to hold, after all.

"Too fine for the wee Lord, eh?" One of the others said. His head was bald, but his beard more than made up for it. His gritted words sounded like the first deep roll of thunder, like he was working up the force to yell at someone. "Or perhaps not good enough?"

The black haired sat on the edge of the table to get a closer look. He spoke. "Good size. Can fit armor under it, no problem. Fur's not fixated to the back, air can pass between, the two layers even warmer than one. Allows for movement when riding or running."

The fourth dwarf—the one with . . . was that an axe in his skull?—said something in their own language. He did not sound happy.

"Aye," the other three agreed in unison.

The blond one gently ran his hand over the soft rabbit fur.

"Does _the peltmaster_ have more like this?" he asked.

Hanah shook her head. "That's the only one."

Suddenly his attention was distracted by something behind her. He reached over her shoulder and picked up one of her sketches. She could not tell which, she had done many. Long, short, sleeveless, sleeved, hooded, no hood, more fur, less fur, buttons, belts, pockets, anything she could think of. And beads; lots and lots of different carved bead designs. He looked back at Hanah.

"He must be able to make more. Perhaps even finer ones," he said.

"_Of course,_" Hemery snapped.

Hanah looked at her sharply, but it was no good. Hemery stood at her workplace, back turned, hands busy with something they could not see, like she was not even speaking to them.

The blond dwarf's smile reached his eyes. "Of course!" he echoed.

"Expected nothing less from the finest peltsmaster in the land," said the black haired with an even wider smile. None of the other dwarves' lips even twitched. Something like alarm must have shown on Hanah's face.

"There a problem?" the blond asked.

She glanced at the coat and thought about how many weeks it had taken to complete it. "No problem."

"Excellent. Then we have an accord?"

"Yes." Hanah cleared her throat, it had suddenly gotten very dry. "Any special requests?"

He thought a moment. "If you imagine _this_," he touched the leather of the coat, "as the burial shroud of a lord, then the other will be the coronation cloak of a king."

"But something practical as well." The black haired added. "Something that can be worn with armour and a weapon harness. Something he can wear while fighting a troll, you know?"

Hanah stared dumbly. "A troll-fighting coat?"

"I wouldn't be the coat fighting the troll, obviously."

"I trust the peltsmaster will figure something out," the blond dwarf said. He turned to go, but stopped. "Oh, and I'll take that one as well." He pointed to the coat on the table. They left the shop.

Hanah grabbed Hemery's arm. "What do you think you are playin' at?"

"Ow," Hemery hissed. "You said we need to sell as much as we can."

Hanah let her sister go and began folding up the coat.

"They look rich," Hemery said.

Hanah would think they were too. Trade in the area had increased a hundredfold after Thorin Oakenshield had taken back Erebor, not to mention the treasure the dwarves had reclaimed with it.

"Did you see their boots?" Hemery continued.

"Like clogs; their feet must be bloody huge. But why did you have to say that? You know we can't make anythin' that fancy!" Hanah hurried under her breath.

"Yes, you can! Father taught you everythin' he knew."

Hanah sighed. She closed the satchel with the coat inside and followed the dwarves outside.

"What you want for it?" the blond dwarf asked.

"A hundred and forty of whatever silver coins you have." This she knew. She had counted very carefully before going to the landlord. She needed one hundred and twenty-five to break even.

He looked at her until she thought he would change his mind. "I'll give you one hundred."

She almost scoffed. "No." She shook her head.

"Fine," he said like he gave in. "One hundred and ten."

She narrowed her eyes. "One hundred and thirty five."

He shrugged and looked away towards the woods, as if he was thinking about something else. "One hundred and twenty."

"One hundred and thirty five," Hanah maintained.

He looked back at her a long moment. "One hundred and thirty."

"Agreed," Hanah said quickly, holding the satchel out with one hand for him to take.

He brought forth a leather purse and products changed hands. Hanah turned the purse upsidedown. It was heavy, and the cause showed itself as a handful of gold pieces inscribed with runes tumbled into her hand.

"But . . . this is too much, sir."

"See it as an advance as well as payment."

She stared at the gold in her hand. It was warm. She had no idea how much it was worth, but it was more than she had ever seen in her life.

"Where _is_ the master, by the way?"

"He's not here," Hemery answered before Hanah could catch her breath from the gold shock.

"He's away . . . working," she finally said.

"Working," he repeated. "Good. Then he won't mind a trip to the Lonely Mountain to deliver my order?"

Hanah had never been further than a few miles from Blackwater, but the Lonely Mountain was not an unknown place. Should be easy enough to find. These dwarves were obviously making the same trip, deeming it worth the trouble. And for another handful of that warm gold, she would trek to ten mountains with a smile on her face.

"Does it all the time." Maybe she exaggerated a bit too much.

"Good," he said, and stretched out his hand toward her. She stared at it as if he had offered her a burning piece of firewood.

"You'll take a dwarf's gold, but not his hand?" the bald dwarf growled from his place already astride his pony. Hanah's face burned hot. She had never been expected to touch a man before that wasn't her father. It was not done. Perhaps customs regarding males and females were different in dwarven society. And she did not want to cause offence.

Tentatively, she reached out, mirroring his stance. When she was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his palm, his hand clamped around hers like a bear trap. His other hand came up to grip her elbow. Slowly, she did the same. His grip was hard, but not crushing; just made her squeeze back as much as she could. A braid from his mustache hitched up. They shook their hands once, like a game of clapping hands.

She had seen it done before, naturally. But it felt different than she thought it would. She felt grown up, making this agreement with another grown up. More so than her engagement with Graham. You were not necessarily grown up because you married, it was hardly even a decision, you merely took the opportunity when a suitable person proposed it.

This dwarf was obviously more than grown up. She had heard that they lived longer than men, and that was the reason they could be rancorous; that any slight against them would be remembered. Forever.

"When you arrive at Erebor, ask for Fili."

She nodded, but he did not let her go.

"I told you my name, now you tell me yours." His tone was polite, but his eyes smiled. He was laughing at her ignorance of social conduct. Her face had not cooled and it did not seem to be getting a chance to do so any time soon. She could not even introduce herself, for Valars' sake.

"Hanah Skinner."

He let go of her arm and went to mount his pony. They turned the horses around to leave.

"I suggest you not wait long after summer's end before beginning your journey, Mistress Skinner.

"Summer's end?" The first days of spring was just upon them. "How much work do you expect this item to demand?"

"Did I not say? I want thirteen of them."


	3. Chapter 3 - Unexpected Revelations

Author's note: I have added some details on time and place in chapter 1 and 2 which clarifies timeline issues. It takes place twenty years after Erebor is reclaimed, and it begins in a small town somewhere between the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills. It will become clearer as the story continues.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Unexpected Revelations

* * *

Hanah and Hemery stayed in the yard until the visitors disappeared from sight.

"Let's see," Hemery said, enthusiastically.

Hanah gave her the purse of gold. Hemery took one piece and peered at it glinting in the pale sun. Then she bit into it.

"Hem!"

"What? It's what you're s'posed to do. You can't do it in front of them, but if they're not real––we don't have to make 'em nothin'."

Hanah thought that sounded reasonable. "I'm more worried about your teeth."

"We should melt 'em into one and bury it where no one will ever find it."

"What good will that do? We still need it. Go pack; we're going to the market."

Hanah put one of the gold coins in her own purse. She hid the rest under the floor in the workshop.

While Hemery set up the market stall, Hanah went to the goldsmith. He looked at her and her coin curiously, but did not ask where she got it. It was not unheard for dwarves to pass through these parts. And if they made business on their way it would not be news, so it was not a ridiculous notion that their currency would circulate and eventually reach his smithy.

Hanah left the forge with light steps and weighty pockets. They bought four arm lengths of cattle skin and several pounds of bone for beads from the butcher. They even brought home a pint of milk and a half dozen eggs to celebrate the occasion.

Not until the walk home did the stomach dropping feeling catch up with Hanah, and she remembered they still had to make this happen. They had to prepare, carve, sew, pad with fur, and decorate thirteen long coats elegant and awe inspiring enough for a king, before summer's end. She had never even seen a royal palace with her own eyes. How would she know what would suit? She had not known with Lord Brage. She almost laughed out loud at the absurd situation. Back to making sketches, she thought. Should have bought more paper.

* * *

"Be honest," Hanah said.

"Honesty has nothin' to do with it; I don't know," her sister replied.

"I've been working on this for days. I can't even see it anymore," Hanah complained.

"An' you think I can? It's just coal on paper. It won't look like that in real life."

"It doesn't matter, just say what looks better on paper. That's all."

Hemery glared at her sister over the worktop, but Hanah held the papers up in front of her face for her to look at instead. Hemery stubbornly kept braiding leather bands.

"Left, or right?" Hanah asked.

"Right."

"Come on. You're not even lookin'."

"I'm looking, alright?" Hemery widened her eyes and poked on the paper. "That one."

"Alright." Hanah put the papers down and lifted two others. "Now these? I know they're similar, but the left has a bigger pattern than. . ."

"Left."

Hanah hesitated. "My left or your left?"

"I'm lookin' from my side, aren't I? Of course _my_ bloody left."

"Alright! Now these."

"Why are you so such a pain? We haven't even started on the cuts yet."

"I want to plan everythin' so we don't have delays later."

"So you're delayin' the whole order to not have any delays?"

Hanah sighed. "I don't want to do twelve of them and then run out of ideas and have the last one be uglier than the others. I want to know exactly what I'm gonna do."

"And I don't want you botherin' me while I do my part. I want to go to the bonfire tomorrow. You promised; if we finished work, we'd go," Hemery complained.

Lighting bonfires to celebrate the return of life to Middle Earth was a yearly tradition they had not missed as long as Hanah could remember. They usually made their own out in the yard, but this year, since Father was not there, Hanah had promised they would go to see the massive fire in the middle of town. Everyone would be there, playing music, dancing, and singing.

"I don't think we'll ever finish work," Hanah muttered. "But yes, I remember," she added at the sight of Hemery's offended look. "If we finish the week's work, we'll go to the bonfire."

"Good."

Hanah bristled at Hemery's patronizing tone. She placed her hand on top of Hemery's, stopping her work. "As long as you remember to behave."

Hemery pursed her lips in a pout, but did not say anything.

A knock sounded at the door. The sisters shared a look. Though the last company of strangers passing the cottage had been of benefit to them, the rare occurrence of visitors still made them apprehensive.

Hanah opened the door.

"Morning, Hanah."

"Graham, what are you doin' here?"

"I heard about what happened at the landlord's."

"Really?"

Hanah was surprised he knew. But then, there had been servant and guards present. Truth be told, if Hanah had seen someone get into a shouting match with Lady Brage, she may have been loose lipped about it herself.

"Hope she wasn't hard on you." He leaned on the door frame.

"No, it's fine."

"You haven't lost business over it, have you?"

"No—except hers maybe," Hanah shrugged, trying to seem indifferent talking about the most humiliating experience of her life. She would rather change the subject.

"Was that why you came here? Rumour control?" she tried to jest.

"Came to see you,"he answered.

Hanah smiled. She was surprised. It was nice of him to take time in the middle of the day just to visit her. It was not as if he did not have work to do himself.

He looked around and continued. "And your father. Is he here?"

Hanah looked behind her at Hemery who stared back, chin down, eyes awake. Hemery always seemed to dislike people she did not know, which was almost everyone. Hanah noticed it at moments like these when they had been speaking openly with each other and then were interrupted by strangers.

Graham walked past her into the workshop, casually taking in the room as he turned.

"No," Hanah said. "He's not."

He sighed. "Have you any idea how long he will be away?"

She looked down at the floor.

"It's been months," he said.

"I know."

He folded his arms across his chest. "This is getting ridiculous."

Hanah glanced at her sister. Hemery's eyes had darkened, but she remained silent, like an accusing reminder of all this time she had spent lying to Graham about her father, and to Hemery about her marriage plans. A lump formed in Hanah's throat.

"There's . . ." Hanah's voice wavered. She cleared her throat. "There's something I need to tell you."

Graham became still. "What?"

"About my father. He . . . he's not comin' back."

"How do you know? You said you didn't know?"

"I know I said that, and . . . I lied. Because he's dead. My father . . ." her voice broke, "is dead."

"But, how do you know?" He looked confused.

"I buried him myself." She wiped a tear from her cheek.

"When?"

"About two months ago."

"How have you managed alone?"

Hanah shrugged. "How we always manage; workin'. Doin' what we do."

"With only the roof over your heads and the clothes on your back? He left you no . . . security?"

Hanah did not understand. "The roof over our heads _is_ our security."

Graham seemed stunned. Almost as if he had not heard her.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid that it would spoil our plans," she explained.

Graham's eyes widened. "Of course it spoils our plans. This ruins everything!" His arms flew out.

"It's you and me who's gettin' married, not him. You said we would find a way." She reminded him of his assurance to her a few weeks ago.

"If he's _alive_, yes! But without him, none of this matters. There'll be no wedding, no dowry, no nothing."

_Dowry._ The word echoed in her head. She knew what it was, of course, but it had not entered her thoughts as a factor in her planned future.

Graham turned away, only to turn back again, a hand rubbing his forehead.

"But he was one of the busiest craftsmen in town, though never bought a horse or new clothes. Everyone knows he's an old miser. And you're saying he didn't leave you anything?"

Her father had no land. No cattle. No horse. No money but what they used to buy and make new products to sell with a little profit for their own upkeep. She and her sister had no money either.

Graham locked eyes with her. "There is no money? At all?"

She shook her head. "No."

As soon as the word escaped her mouth, Hanah's eyes caught on the table behind Graham. There, next to jars of beads and scraps of paper, rested a small leather purse. The silver she had exchanged for the gold—_the dwarf gold—_and the promise of more where it came from.

Hanah looked at Graham's frustrated appearance, his usually tall and straight back now stiff and bent, his face contorted with irritation.

She had said yes to Graham's offer of marriage without any romantic notion. She respected him. He worked hard and provided for his family. He was friendly and intelligent, not a lazy fool like many other young men who only worked hard to do as little as possible and brought shame on their families.

She had considered herself lucky when Graham proposed marriage. She was not wealthy or born to high status. What she wanted was protection in a family. That was all she could expect in this life, and all she hoped for. But the thought that Graham's proposal was conditioned on her dowry, struck a chord in her chest that resonated with an ill note. He did not value her craft, nor enjoy the prospect of her as a wife, or mother of his children. He rejected her because she had no money. Or so he thought.

She could tell him what she was worth. That she had a big payment on the horizon. That there was the possibility of a dowry, but something held her back. She realized she did not want to tell him.

"So . . . you don't want to marry me?" Hanah asked.

He did not even look at her as he answered. "Doesn't matter. My family will never agree to it now."

A calm descended over her. Her eyes dried and she took a deep breath. Graham looked at her, now like a stranger to her.

"You lied to me. All this time," he said.

"It was all I could think of to do. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." With those words, he left the workshop.

Hanah turned to look at her sister. If Hemery had opinions on Hanah's behavior, she kept them to herself. However, Hanah could not help but notice the tense muscles of Hemery's jaw as she continued her work.

* * *

The next morning, Hanah's breakfast left her as soon as it had entered her. While Hemery packed their bags, Hanah went outside, around the cottage, and threw up. She covered it with snow and walked back inside. She chewed some bread to erase the taste of bile from her tongue, and spat it out. She was hungry, but the rest of the morning she only drank water. For lunch she was able to hold down some cheese. Hemery watched her small nibbles, but did not say anything.

After eating, Hanah was surprised to see the landlady's maid stop at their market table.

"Do you have anything for sale?" she asked Hanah.

The morning had cleaned them out of laces and gloves, and they ran low on belts and bracelets. Hemery's bracelets and wristbands were favourites. Silverthread, beads, and branded designs on different sized leather bands. Everything else was still available and visible on the table; tunics, aprons, and much more. If that was not worth selling, then she had no idea what the landlady's maid may deem worthy. But perhaps it was not she who wished to know?

Hanah looked at the table before her, then back up at the maid. The sun were in her eyes, so she held a hand to shade them as she spoke. "I guess it depends who you ask, doesn't it?"

"Bring your wares. Lady Brage wants to see you at the House."

"I thought our business was no longer welcome there." Hanah made no move to get up from her seat behind the table.

The maid offered her a grave look and lowered her voice. "The lady summons you. I suggest you comply."

Hanah would not refuse to visit the Big House, but would have liked to know why the landlady had changed her mind. However, it did not seem like she would be given an explanation any time soon. She smoothed down her hair and stood.

"Certainly," she said.

Hanah was shown into the same room as last time, and told to wait for Lady Brage. The maid left her to unpack. The room was empty, except for the table which was as cluttered with papers as before. The other end was clear, so she lay out the items there. When she unrolled one especially thick belt, the tail flicked an ink bottle, knocking it over and spilling unforgiving black liquid over the papers.

"_Damn it!_" Hanah hissed. She looked around hurriedly. Fortunately, no one was around to witness her mistake. She rightened the bottle, careful not to get any ink on her fingers, but the paper could not be salvaged.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Hanah's heart skipped a beat. She could not let Lady Brage see this.

Quickly, she folded the paper in on itself, so the ink would not spill out on the others.

"I expressly said the study, not the hall," the landlady's voice drew nearer.

Hanah stuffed the paper in one of the pockets in her bag.

Lady Brage entered with the maid on her heels who looked thoroughly chastised with her head bent. The landlady went straight to the pile of documents and gathered them to hide their content. Then she turned to the foreign objects on her table, her eyes flickering back and forth as if the items were moving and she tried to keep track, not stopping on any. At no point did she look at Hanah.

"No coat?" Lady Brage asked.

"I didn't think you wanted it,"Hana said.

"I don't."

Hanah clamped her jaws together to stop from talking. She did not need to talk, she needed to sell. Lady Brage was not interested in her opinions.

"How is business?" Lady Brage asks. "Is leather all you do? I can't imagine a family living solely on . . . this." She gestured towards the table like she was reluctant to touch it.

"Leather has many uses. It's enough to live on," Hanah replied, uncomfortable to be discussing finances with Lady Brage, but answering truthfully, however loosely.

"And it's only your father, _the peltmaster_, your sister, and yourself? No other family?"

"No other," Hanah agreed.

"That's a shame. Young girls really should have . . . more."

"More, m'lady?"

"What are your plans for the future?"

Hanah thought how brutally her one and only plan had shattered the day before. "No plans. Just want to keep makin' an earnest livin'."

The lady locked eyes with her. "That sounds very wise," she said softly. She pointed at a bracelet off the table, decorated with braided leather cords and silver thread.

"I'll have this one."

* * *

"What happened this time?" Hemery asked when Hanah returned to the market.

"She bought a bracelet."

"You left me here for an hour with nothin', to sell one bracelet? Why?"

"Because she did not want to fight with me, but still remind me of my place."

"Couldn't she just say so?"

"Remember what father said—rich people rarely say what they mean or mean what they say. Not when it comes to pride and forgetting past offenses."

If Hanah doubted it was worth paying Lady Brage an awkward and degrading visit just to sell a bracelet, she would never admit it.


	4. Chapter 4 - Unexpected Accusations

Chapter 4 - Unexpected Accusations

* * *

They came at dusk.

Hanah heard the sound of hooves on hard dirt. A muted, but distinct beating like dropping potatoes on wooden floors. Before she reached the door, there was a pounding of a fist on it. As soon as she opened, she was grabbed by the arms and dragged out of the shop.

"No! _Let me go._" Hanah shouted in surprise and protest, but could not tug herself free, though she tried.

They were tall men dressed in black. She knew that uniform. She stood between them, able to do nothing in their iron grasp, but look around her in astonishment. Six horses crowded the yard, four of them with riders still on them. One was a woman—Lady Brage. She wore a dark coat with the hood covering the crown of her head, gloves on her hands, riding boots and leather trousers visible beneath the hem of her skirts which were hitched up for the gallop.

So they had been in a hurry, Hanah guessed. But not too much of a hurry to have time to change into riding clothes.

"You stole from me," the landlady said. Her voice frosty and high pitched. "I want it back."

"What? I don't know what . . ." Hanah began, but then she remembered.

_The paper_. She had taken it. She could feel the blood drain from her face. In all honesty, she had not thought it was important. The table had been littered with papers just like it. How did she even notice? Never mind. She obviously did. Hanah could hit herself for her own stupidity if her hands had been free. How she would explain herself was the real problem. Lady Brage would never believe her now, even if she spoke the truth.

"I haven't stolen from you." It had not been the intention, anyway.

The lady turned to the other men. "Search the house."

Two others, and one of the men that held her, went into the shop. Hanah could hear them moving around in there. Throwing, turning over, breaking things. She was glad Hemery was not there. Her sister had gone to the creek to see if the ice had melted enough for fishing, but she would be back any moment.

"You can't do that!" cried Hanah. "Please, my lady, you have to believe me. I haven't stolen anything." She tried to sound as polite as possible over the anger simmering in her chest, but she only wanted to scream at her that she was a hag whose only joy in life came from torturing people like children tortured insects.

"I know it cannot be easy," Lady Brage began impatiently, ignoring Hanah's words. "Losing your father when you are little more than a child." She probably meant to sound understanding, but only communicated cold condescension. "But that's no excuse. You must learn where your loyalty lies."

How did she know about Father? Hanah was thoroughly confused now, and frustrated by the violation of her home and her freedom. And the knowledge that there was nothing she could do if the landlady decided she had no right to either. "How—? Why—? _What?_"

"M'lady." One of the guards appeared in the doorway.

Hanah's blood froze. Was this it? Had they found it?

He approached the landlady and gave her a heavy, leather purse.

Lady Brage looked at Hanah like she was a dog who had pissed indoors. She gripped the saddle, swung a long leg over the horse in her dismount and closed the distance between them. A metallic zing reached Hanah's ears and suddenly a blade gleamed a few inches away from her face.

"You are a spy for the dwarf scum!"

"Spy? No!"

"Don't. Lie. To me," Lady Brage gritted out. Her eyes were red rimmed as they had been before, peering at her from a pale face tilted like a bird's.

"I'm not a spy. Why would I be?"

"It's simple. You've lost your father and with him any prospect of taking care of yourself and your sister. Who can resist a purse full of gold?"

"They bought some wares."

"For five gold pieces? Do you take me for a fool?!" Lady Brage reached out and grabbed Hanah's braid, bringing the knife closer to her face.

Hanah shut her eyes tightly. Before she knew what was happening, the lady let go suddenly. No, she realized, she had not let go. Lady Brage held up a big chunk of Hanah's hair in her fist before she threw it on the ground.

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing!"

Lady Brage struck her across the mouth. She had not been hit like that since she was ten and fought with the neighbor's children. But this time Hanah was pretty sure she would not laugh about it and go play with her again the next day.

The man still on his horse spoke. "We'll take her back with us." Then he turned to one of the others. "Wait for the other one. When she shows up, bring her too."

"Why?" asked Hanah. "What are you gonna do?"

They ignored her.

"Leave my sister alone! We've done nothing wrong," Hanah protested, until another strike made her vision swim. They tied her wrists, pushed her up on a horse and rode into town. Holding tight to the saddle of the trotting horse, she tried to look behind her. The doors were gaping open, letting the glow of the fire spread out into the evening. It would die without someone tending it, and the cottage would descend into darkness.

Hemery would be back soon. She would not know why a man in uniform was at her home and not Hanah. He would hogtie her and drag her with him. And there was nothing Hanah could do to stop it.

* * *

"A night without food or fire will loosen her tongue." A heavy door closed somewhere at the end of the corridor outside her room. Four blank walls, a shelf like bed and a blanket. Her cell.

They had brought her into the big house through a back door and down into a cellar. Hanah guessed they did not want to advertise their capture of a young girl suspected of being a dwarf spy. Not sure why—they seemed pretty pleased with themselves.

The door was made of planks and not heavily fortified, but she did not want to break out. Not yet. She did not know if they had Hemery. If they did, perhaps they would bring her here, and Hanah did not want to be on the outside if Hemery was on the inside. That is, if she _could _get out.

She did not know what they wanted her to tell them after a cold and hungry night, but if they thought she was a spy, there was not much for it. Judging by the behavior Hanah had witnessed from the landlady so far, she did not seem like the trusting sort. Or the forgiving. They would not believe her if she told the truth about the ink paper or the dwarf business. She hardly believed it herself, after all.

She did not know how long she sat there—blanket wrapped around her, no light except for what seeped through the cracks in the door, and even then there was nothing to look at other than the bare wood walls—listening for signs of life coming her way. Footsteps sounded in the distance, but they faded as quickly. Time crawled.

Hanah fumed silently. What right had Lady Brage to lock people up like this? Lord Brage owned most of the land around Blackwater Ridge, Hanah knew. He owned the mill, which the farmers needed to make flour and gave a percentage to the landlord as payment for using it. He also owned the mine, but that had collapsed before Hanah was born. A few people had died down there, but it had not stopped them from digging deeper. It must have made Lord Brage a lot of money, because he was rich enough to hire guards, soldiers, _to keep the peace_ as they said.

To some extent, it was true. If someone had a grievance then Lord Brage would settle it. But people rarely sought his aid, since his justice was often harsh on both sides of the dispute. If someone was accused of stealing a lamb that had wandered off its pasture and onto the neighbor's, Brage's solution would be to slaughter the lamb and divide the pieces equally between the quarrellers—pound by pound. To Hanah it seemed more like the landlord was making his own justice in the area with his private army.

And what horrible secret could Lady Brage be hiding for her to be so upset at the thought that the dwarves might learn it?

She heard footsteps again, but they did not fade like the others. The heavy door opened out in the corridor. Quick, light steps. Hemery? Hanah did not dare hope.

Hanah jerked back in fright when a metal rod was stabbed between the door and the frame. With a few twists and bends, the woodmoaned and splintered, and the plank holding the lock came loose. Light from the lantern in the corridor flooded the doorframe as the door swung open unhindered.

It was not Hemery. It was the maid. The young woman with the headcloth who had led her through the house both times she had visited.

"Make haste," she hissed. She waved Hanah forward. Hana did not waste any time. The girl was obviously taking a great risk in releasing her, and Hanah was not about to object. She followed her back the way she had come.

"Have you seen my sister?" Hanah whispered.

"No, but I doubt they would let either of you live." She paused to look at Hanah. "Even if you give them what they want." She continued walking.

When they came to the outermost door, they stopped. The girl glanced out through the small window. "You must hurry. Everyone is at the bonfires, but they might return any moment."

Hanah could only see darkness through the glass.

"Why are you helping me?"

She looked at Hanah. "Because his lordship is mad . . . and we all do what we must. Now _go_."

And she did. Hanah hardly looked around before she started to run. The streets were empty, but she still took the back routes through town and out onto the western road. When she looked behind her, she could see the red glow of the bonfires on the rooftops. It looked like the whole town was set ablaze. Hanah ran home. She ran until she tasted iron in her dry mouth, and then she kept running.

After an eternity, she slowed her steps as the cottage came into view through the trees. She did not see the guard anywhere, though the moonlight her eyes had adjusted to was dim and unreliable. Wind made shadows move and blur, and footsteps fade. The cottage lay dark and abandoned. The door to the shop opened and closed in the draft, as if the building was breathing in a deep slumber.

She paused by the kitchen door. She could not hear anything other than the wind in the trees and her own laboured breathing. She went inside. Her steps were loud in her ears, and the floorboards' creak deafening in the night.

Opening the cupboard, she retrieved some smoked meat wrapped up in paper, a cube of cheese, a loaf of bread, and stuffed it in a bag. She snatched an empty water skin and her coat on the way out.

In the workshop, it was almost pitch black. On all fours, she found the far left corner. She ran her hands along the floor, counted three planks from the wall and dug her nails into the grain. The board came loose. She picked up the small purse hidden underneath. It jingled merrily when she weighed it in her hand. That too went into the bag.

Footsteps disturbed the floor behind her. Hanah whirled around, desperately trying to focus her eyes in the dark. The only hope she had was that the other would see even less than her, and would lose her in the dark corner. She stayed still.

"What are you doing?" hissed a voice from the doorway.

"_Hem?_"

"Of course it's me."

Hanah leaped up from her crouch to hug her sister close. Hemery squeezed back until she thought her ribs would crack.

"We have to go," Hanah whispered. She could feel Hemery nod against her collarbone. "Take a bag and pack some knives, the toolkit, a tinderbox, and your coat."

By the workbench, Hanah went down on her knees and felt around for the edge between planks. Another purse was found.

Damn lady Brage for stealing a third of her gold. Not even her profit, it was investment money she was going to use to fulfill her order to the dwarf. Then again, though Hanah would never admit it, she had technically stolen from Lady Brage, even if it was never her intention. However, she was pretty sure a piece of paper could never be worth five gold coins. Hanah clenched the purse in her hand hard. She guessed everybody was a thief in some way in this world. That was why Hanah had divided the gold in the first place. Just in case.

Hemery was stuffing a blanket into a full bag.

"Let's go," Hanah said.

She passed through the doorway into the pale moonlight that was like a floodlight compared to inside. Something struck her head hard from behind. The world tilted and her legs folded beneath her.


	5. Chapter 5 - An Unexpected Journey

Thank you to my reviewers: Heart breaker99, TheFightWithin, sarah0406, KelseyBl, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Rhyska Nevar!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 5 - An Unexpected Journey

* * *

Hanah's arms were suddenly trapped against her body, a pressure on her chest like a vise pushed the air from her lungs.

"You're not goin' anywhere," a man growled in her ear.

It seemed the guard had waited after all, she thought. Obedient bastard.

She jerked her head back into something soft that crunched against her skull. It did not help her own headache from the blow to her head a moment ago, but he let her go—howling in pain. Probably to cradle his broken nose.

"Hem, run!" Hanah called. She reached for the bag she had dropped, but was yanked back by the arm. The force of the man's hand colliding with her face was enough to throw her off balance and fall to the ground. Her eyes failed her. Light and dark shifted before her. She could feel gravel against her arm and hip; she was lying on her side, but soon hands turned her over on her back. A weight pinned her to the cold, wet dirt, and big hands closed around her throat.

"Now you'll go to sleep," he grunted. "And wake up all nicely tied up and on your way back to the Big House.

Panic awakened when Hanah could not breathe. Her hands clutched his wrists and her eyes sought his, but all she could see was a dark outline against the starry sky, like his skin was orc black—a demon risen from nightmares to haunt her.

An echoing thump vibrated into her through his arms. This was it, she thought. Her mind was giving up, producing hallucinations before the final shutdown, like the echoing bell tolling for Death's arrival.

As suddenly as it had come, the pressure on her neck was relieved. The paralyzing weight on her doubled, though, as he collapsed on top of her. Hanah drew frantic, wheezing breaths, and struggled to shove the guard's limp body to the side. Slowly, she came to her feet.

Hemery stood a few feet away with an iron rod gripped in her hands. It was the one they always kept leaning against the side of the door to hack away ice around the threshold. Hanah looked at her sister, looked at the guard, and back to Hemery.

"Hem, come," Hanah said in a scratchy voice.

"Should we—?" Hemery pointed at the guard.

"No,"Hanah interrupted. "Leave him." Hanah unclasped the rod from Hemery's hands and threw it aside. She fetched the bags, hefted them over one shoulder and took Hemery's hand in hers. Not until she was pulled away by Hanah did Hemery tear her eyes from the lifeless man.

On the other side of the cottage they found the guard's horse, a black mare, tied to a treebranch. Hanah would not have noticed her had the horse not whinnied as they rounded the corner and almost scared the girls to death. Hanah stripped the mare of sword holsters and harness and anything else they did not need, secured their own bags to the saddle before untying her reins.

Her father had never owned a horse, but she had ridden one a few times. Either she had picked up more about horses than she thought, or this was a really docile animal, because she did not make a noise or even hesitate when Hanah turned her around to help Hemery mount.

They left on the road going south, opposite from town. White stones outlined the way. The stones reflected what little light shone from stars or moon, making them just visible in the night. They followed the white stone road until they reached a river. It was not more than a creek, but the melted snow water from the north and the surrounding heights made the stream flow fierce and wide.

After a few miles they found a bridge. It was thin and narrow above a natural damm. The water was flat, but Hanah could tell by leaves and debris on the surface that it moved in fast torrents below. The bridge was anchored on some poles in the water, but it was not strong enough to carry a horse. The road continued south, and probably led to a proper crossing further downstream, but Hanah thought it best to leave the white stone road as soon as possible. There were many trails around these parts for trade routes between the Iron Hills and Esgaroth, and further north to the Lonely Mountain. They needed to stay away from the main road if they were to be sure they would not be followed by the landlord. By now, Hanah would not only be accused of being a dwarf spy, but a horse thief as well.

They unfastened the bags from the saddle, removed the reins, so the mare would not get caught on anything in the forest, and let her go. The mare would find her way home.

On the other side of the river, the trees grew closer and it was much darker. The last hours before dawn, Hanah decided they would try to sleep since they barely saw their own hands in front of them. They climbed a wide oak tree and settled on a branch halfway to the top. Hanah sat with her back to the trunk, legs on either side of the branch. Her sister sat in front of her, Hemery's head resting on Hanah's shoulder. Hanah wrapped her arms around Hemery and the blanket enveloping them.

A short reprieve, thought Hanah. A moment to catch her breath. For the moment, they were safe. For the moment, she could relax.

"Hem?"

"Hmm."

It seemed foolish to ask if she was alright.

"You did good today," Hanah said.

Hemery did not answer.

"How did you not get caught?" Hanah asked.

"I heard you screamin'. When I came to the top of the hill, I hid behind the trees. I was gonna come for you, but then they took you away. I'm sorry I didn't stop them."

Hanah's throat constricted. "No. There's nothin' to be sorry for. They would have taken you too. Then we'd both be in the landlady's cellar. It's good you hid. You did good."

"I'm scared," Hemery said.

"No, no,"Hanah soothed, rubbing her hands over Hemery's arms. "Don't be. The landlord's men won't find us. And no animals can get us up here. Tomorrow we'll go west to the Lonely Mountain. We'll find some place to live, and work as usual. We have orders to fill and gold to do it with. Where there's work, we'll be fine."

Hemery did not say anything.

"I'll protect you," Hanah said. "I swear, I'll always take care of you."

Then Hanah sang to her little sister until she felt Hemery go limp in her arms. And if Hanah was equally comforted by the familiar rhymes as her sister in the cold night, no one would know.

Sold and cold our gold mine

let the moon or sun shine

on the hills where we climb

where the eagles are cryin'

slopes are riddled with pine

Clinging vines will entwine

lonely hearts to confine

in a foreign design

among rock like a shrine

Drink up mead, drink up wine

for our sunlight divine

Feed the goats, feed the swine

let them all fall in line

Foxes laughter will chime

gold is mine, gold is thine

in the fine summertime

* * *

Hanah's eyes snapped open. Had she imagined it in her half dream, or had she heard something that woke her from her torpor? She did not think she had slept at all, but she must have because the sky through the foliage was turning pale blue though the ground below was still as shrouded in shadows as before.

There—the crunch of dry leaves, twigs breaking. It was not a dream. Something was moving down there. Feet shuffled through the underbrush. Screeches in the distance, like crows, and chatter like magpies. Clatter like armour. Mutterings, rumblings, like rocks tumbling down a landslide.

Hanah peered down, careful not to rouse her sister.

People? A caravan, perhaps? They might be able to help. Allow company on the road to the next village, or even as far as Esgaroth or Dale. But they did not usually travel at night, and there was no path here. Hanah and Hemery had gone into the forest before climbing their oak, deliberately to avoid meeting anyone. If it was the landlord's men, which Hanah doubted—who would go to such trouble, off trail, to find a petty thief?—they needed to be quiet until they passed, and Hanah wanted to know which way they were headed.

Suddenly, shapes came into view from the bushes to her left. Huddled, bent creatures swayed from side to side as they shifted their weight from left to right foot in their walk. Chunky armour lay as patchwork on their backs. Heavy, club like swords and axes hung from their hands, trailing after them in the dirt. Bare heads revealed ashy, hairless skin and large, pointed ears. Hanah had never seen elves, but she was sure these creatures were not it.

They were orcs. Perhaps twenty-five of them, Hanah counted. They passed the oaktree on their way north. One in the last group slowed its steps beneath the oak and looked around, turning its lizardlike head back and forth as if sniffing the air. Clutching the metal slab of a sword compulsively. The others passed, yet it lingered.

A gurgling coughing was heard from the front. The lingerer answered with a hiss like a cat, then wheezed hoarsely back.

Hanah was afraid Hemery would wake from the noise any moment, and prepared to cover her mouth and restrain her should she panic at the sight of these beasts. If they were discovered, Hanah and Hemery were truly doomed. Despite her promise, Hanah would not be able to protect her sister from a pack of orcs. They would be trapped in their tree as easily as had they sat in a cage.

A roar echoed from the forest to the right. The lingerer jerked at the sound, but followed the group through the trees. The noises of weapons on armour and creaky voices faded in the distance.

Hanah inhaled deeply, and allowed a tear of relief roll down her cheek.

"Hanah," Hem muttered sleepily. "You're holdin' too tight." She squirmed within the blanket. Hanah eased her grip.

"Sorry, sorry," she whispered.

"Is it morning?"

Even if the sun had been glaring her right in the eye, Hanah would not have climbed down that tree. As it was, the sun had just flooded the sky in orange on its way up, and the orcs were on their way to some place the sun would not reach them.

"No rush. You can doze a while yet."

* * *

On the second day, Hanah and Hemery reached Dale. The sun warmed their backs as they trekked the mountain road in the late evening. They were chased by the sunset up the hill, but lost to the dusk a few miles from the city. They were following a white stone road, but as they neared the populated area lamp posts replaced the stones.

They passed some houses interspersed with ruined buildings which seemed to have been uninhabited for some time, charred to black, and weeds from many summers clinging to the structures.

It was not until lights became dense and noise louder in the center of Dale—people going places with determination, men as well as dwarves—that Hanah thought about what they would actually do there. They needed to eat and sleep. Find a place to stay and work. _And wash,_ she thought, looking down at herself and her sister. She did not even want to know what she looked like, and she did not care. After walking for days and not sleeping properly at night, she could barely think straight she was so tired.

They had money; they would just go to an Inn. Hanah was sure people a lot less proper than they came to trading towns like these all the time.

* * *

"Great Aulë! Are you alright?" The matron of the Dragon's Head cried out at the sight of the sisters. She rounded the counter, but did not come near them. Like injured dogs, Hanah and Hemery attracted sympathy in their disheveled state, but also wariness, as if they might rabidly lash out at any moment. Hanah guessed they looked worse than she had first thought.

She looked around the room. Through the side door was the dining area, where people drank and ate loudly, and someone played the fiddle. No one took notice of the woman's outburst.

"Oh, we're fine," she explained. "We just need a room."

The woman raised her chin. "Do you have coin?" Not rudely, only inquiring.

Hanah admitted to herself she would have done the same. She brought forth her pouch of silver and counted them in her hand. She gave the woman fifteen coins.

The matron glanced at it, then nodded. She wrote something in a ledger, and handed Hanah a big iron key.

"Two nights, supper included. Up the stairs, to the right. I'll send up hot water. Won't do for ladies to go dinin' looking like that."

* * *

Hanah and Hemery did not have any spare clothes with them, so they settled for scrubbing their faces and hands clean. Hanah placed a metal plate on a table in front of the fire to see her own reflection when she evened out her hair with a knife. It barely skimmed her shoulders now. She would have kept it back in a tail or a knot, but she wanted to hide the bruises on her neck and face as much as possible, so she let it be.

When they came downstairs, the matron showed them to a table in the corner of the lively dining room. Being two lone girls, they were grateful to be hidden away. They were served stew and bread, but when the barmaid put ale on the table, Hanah asked for water instead. Hanah had tasted ale before, but the girls were both exhausted and malnourished from their journey. Ale was the last thing they needed.

In the low light of lanterns and a fireplace, Hanah looked over the other customers. It was a mixture of men and dwarves, even some females among them. It was late, so most had already eaten and was now just drinking. The volume was high and there was merry music playing.

Hemery chewed her food slowly, eyelids heavy, as if she would fall asleep any second. The warmth of the room was finally seeping into Hanah's bones now that she had eaten. She raised her hand from the table top and watched it tremble. She quickly put it down again, pressing it against the wood. Just nerves, she thought. She needed sleep to gather her strength.

Someone touched her shoulder. Hanah jumped in her seat and knocked the hand aside.

"Woah, easy there," a man said, smiling. "Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to sit down and share a glass with you, seeing as you're here all by your lonesome."

The man placed two goblets filled to the brim with red wine on the table.

"I'm with my sister," Hanah said.

"That's alright. I'm enough company for both of you." He pulled up a chair, scraping its legs loudly over the floor.

Hanah stared at the man. His hair reached his shoulders, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and Hanah could see parts of a faded tattoo on his forearm.

He was much older than her. Not as old as Father had been, but old enough that he should have a family of his own and children in Hemery's age. His smile was disarming, but his manner forward. In this festive atmosphere, it was difficult to refuse an offered drink.

Hemery's fatigue seemed to have disappeared when the man sat down. She looked at him as if he had a poisonous snake around his neck.

"Where are you from?" the man asked Hanah.

"East."

"And what brings you to Dale, m'lady?"

"Work."

He chuckled. "Like most I expect. What kind of work attracts you?"

She did not know exactly what he meant by that. "Leather," she replied.

"A girl in craft. I'm in textiles myself. Well, shipping and trading silks," he explained.

"A lot of tradin' of silks in taverns?" Hanah's tone was dry.

He laughed. "More than you'd think. How about you? High sales of skin tonight?"

Hanah looked at her dirty and torn sleeves. He was humouring her, she thought. She and her sister must look like rats someone had tried to drown, but had survived and dried off the remnants of low tide by the fire at the Dragon's Head. It was nice of him to buy her a cup of wine on a chilly night.

"Does it look like I've sold anythin' lately?" she smiled wryly.

"We all have our ups and downs. I'm sure you'll have no problem finding customers in Dale." His smile grew and he raised his cup. "To good business."

Hanah looked at her untouched goblet. It was just wine. A drink with a dry, sour aftertaste. She was familiar with it. The first time she spoken to Graham, at the Midsummer festival last year, she had drunk five cups and emptied her stomach due to the dizzy spell that followed.

This was just one cup. One toast. Hanah reached for the goblet.

A large hand came down hard on top, like a lid on the goblet, forcing it to stay in place.

"Ye don't want to do that, lass," a rough voice thundered. She turned around to see a dwarf over the back of her seat. His beard and hair, what he had around his tattooed scalp, was dark brown, and his eyes even darker where they glared from under low, scarred eyebrows. He had his arm stretched over the back to cover Hanah's drink.

"Mind your own business, dwarf," the man said.

"Aye, if ye leave the women to theirs."

"We're just having a friendly conversation. There's no harm in that."

"There are places in Lake Town where they specialize in conversation, as _friendly_ as ye like."

Hanah recognized the distinguished brogue and the deep growl, like the beginning of a thunderstorm.

"I prefer to stay here." The man spoke to Hanah. "You don't mind. Do you, love?" His fingers came up, as if to stroke her cheek.

Before she even felt a touch, the man's chair had been kicked from under him, bringing him to his knees, and his arm was slammed on the table. Plates and cups clattered, water and wine was spilled. The dwarf held a blade to the man's fingers. The people around stopped to watch what was happening. Some gasping, some laughing. Some continued speaking to each other, not even bothered by the drawn knife in the corner. The fiddle player did not seem to notice the disturbance either, but kept playing his tunes from the other side of the room.

"Reclaim sense, dwarf! No harm was intended," the man barked hurriedly.

"I know yer intention well enough. And ye'll know not to lay hand on a lady unrequested." The dwarf's knife grazed the man's little finger. Blood pearled at the cut.

Hanah was transfixed by the scene unfolding where her dinner plate had just been.

"Alright! Alright. I'll go," the man shouted hoarsely.

The dwarf raised his knife before stabbing it into the table top right next to the man's hand. Then he let up on his hold enough to shove the man away from him. The man scrambled to his feet quickly, looked around as if not really believing what had just transpired, but left before the dwarf could change his mind.

Hanah looked to Hemery, but she was not on the bench opposite her where she had been a moment ago.

"Hem?" she called.

Before she could panic, she felt a hand on her leg and Hemery emerged from beneath the table to sit next to her sister. Hanah took her hand. Then she turned to the dwarf.

She wanted to shout at him, tell him he was mad, that he was rude, that he could have seriously hurt someone. He could have hurt Hemery who had sat close enough to feel the rush of air from his descending arm as he stuck the knife to the table. He had cut a man's flesh in front of her sister.

"Why did you do that?" Hanah gasped.

"He's not welcome here," he simply replied.

"Because he bought me a cup of wine?" Hanah did not understand.

"His wish was to buy you, lass. And failing that, to drink ye under the table."

"It was one cup." Hanah gestured to the fallen goblet.

"One is all it takes. Never take a cup from someone other than the barmaid, ye don't know what have made its way down it."

Hanah's eyes widened. She had not thought of that. But she had thought it strange that someone would just come and sit with her like that. Especially with the girls looking like drifters. "You didn't have to injure him, though."

"He can still play with himself with four fingers. Nothing less than he deserves for disrespecting a lady like that. Taking ye for a woman of pleasure. And even if ye were, ye should not be harassed at any tavern. He can find that elsewhere."

Hanah fell silent at that. Hemery spoke for her, though. "Thank you."

The dwarf grunted something and sat down in his seat. The sound set off something in Hanah. She turned around to look at him.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"No, lass. Though we have met."

"You and your friends came to my house in Blackwater."

"Aye."

She nodded. "I must say it's nice to meet you again. I'm Hanah and this is Hemery. What's your name, m'lord?"

"No lord. Just Dwalin."


	6. Chapter 6 - Unexpected Aid

Thank you to everyone who has added my story and reviewed: Kelsey Bl, blaahblaahblaah, TheFightWithin, marulk, and Rhyska Nevar!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 6 - Unexpected Aid

* * *

"I'm a blacksmith, not a carpenter," Dwalin barked, but Hanah did not shrink back. She had not heard a harmonious, calm word from him thus far, and was beginning to grown accustomed to his gruff tone.

"I never suggested you were. And it's not as bad as you made it out to be."

Hanah looked around the kitchen. The plaster on the walls had crumbled long ago, revealing pale grey stone walls. The floor was also stone; big, black flagstones. A cupboard, a chest, a table, two chairs. One door led outside, where Dwalin lingered, and one led to an alcove in the back with a bed. A third door led to a bigger room with a bench and some shelves. The windows were taller than they had been at their Blackwater cottage. Dust and cobwebs covered everything, but nothing a brush could not handle. She pointed at the stove.

"Does it work?"

"Aye," he rumbled low, like a dog's warning growl. "Now do ye want it or not?"

"_Alright_," she said and held one hand up in amused annoyance. _Impatient_, she thought. "Yes, we'll take it."

Hanah and Hemery had spent all day looking for somewhere to live in Dale, but the town was growing fast and more people came to trade and dwell than houses were built. Though they had washed their clothes in their bath water to dry overnight at the Inn, they were still torn and soiled and made the girls look like the homeless wretches they were. Even if they found a room or a house for rent, no one was keen to have some poor girls for tenants.

In the evening, over dinner at the Dragon's Head, they had spotted Dwalin once more. Since he was the only one they knew in town, and the only one who knew the girls worked and could pay their way, Hanah asked for his advice. After much discussion which consisted mostly of Dwalin professing his disinterest—to put it mildly—he admitted that he owned a piece of land outside Dale where his own forge was built along with another building he was not using. He had rented it out to people during short periods of time, mostly dwarves who came to work and re-settle in the mountain. It had not been maintained or re-painted since the reclaim of Erebor. Since Dwalin did not need the money, and people considered it bad luck to live in a house still charred with dragon fire, the house was empty.

"There's firewood at the back. The rent is due monthly." Dwalin was already on his way over the yard toward his own house. "If somethin' happens, I'll be in the forge—not to be disturbed."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hanah and Hemery looked at each other and had to choke back giggles threatening to burst out.

"First thing we need to do is buy brushes and cloths," Hanah decided.

"And something to sleep in," Hemery added.

"And new clothes."

"And soap."

"And supplies so we can start working," Hanah stressed.

Hemery noticed some mice droppings on the workbench. "And maybe a cat."

* * *

Every morning when Hanah went to fetch firewood behind the house, she continued into the forest, up the slope, and emptied her stomach. Sometimes she barely had time to throw on her clothes before rushing outside. Sometimes she leaned on a tree for a while before her body decided it was time. Sometimes long enough for Hemery to ask what she had been doing, but Hanah simply said the firewood was wet and she that had been looking for dry sticks.

It had taken two days to clean up and get settled in the new house. It was a half hour walk to the center of Dale, but the small house was exactly what they needed to live and work in. The small space meant they did not need much fuel to keep the rooms warm, and the rent was cheap compared to something of equal size nearer the market.

There was undisturbed wilderness around them. Dwalin did not own a horse or carriage so the yard between their houses was mostly untouched. The ground where the snow had begun to melt showed no mud, only yellowed grass. Behind Hanah's and Hemery's house the forest floor rose up towards the top of the mountain, while the road took the longer and more accessible path around to Dale. Behind Dwalin's house the ground sloped slightly towards sparser trees before meeting the river which rushed cold and quick over jagged stones down to Esgaroth.

It was quiet and calm in Dwalin's yard, and Hanah savoured every moment of it. It even comforted her to know the dwarf lived so near, though they rarely saw him. When the sisters sat in their new workshop, with fresh material in their hands, Hanah felt how her nerves were soothed in the familiar movements. Finally, with her sister in their new home, she could relax.

That was why Hanah was unhappy to discover when they had eaten dinner on their third day at Dwalin's, listened to the crackling fire in the stove, and sang together while they braided leather cords, that she had begun to bleed.

Hanah had always been irregular in her monthly bleeding, and she knew stress could push it for days, so she did not know if she was late or early. Fortunately, she had bought new underclothes and had pads ready for the occasion.

However, the bleeding did not concern her as much as the pain. A dull ache quickly transformed into paralyzing torment, which she had not felt since her very first menstruation. She told Hemery to lock up the house and mind the fire, and went to bed.

Hanah lay awake a long time. She listened as her sister moved in the other rooms. Hemery went out for a while—to the outhouse, Hanah suspected—before coming back in and locking the door. The poker clattered against the stove. Hemery settled the embers before closing the stove for the night. Hanah heard when Hemery came into the alcove and changed into her nightclothes. The bed dipped as Hemery came to lay next to her.

"Hanah," she whispered.

"Hmm."

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I just need to sleep."

But she could not. Blue light reflected on the wall from the window in the kitchen before Hanah fell into a restless slumber.

* * *

She woke from a stab in her gut, like a dagger was twisting its way through her innards a little more with every heartbeat. Her head swam from exhaustion. When she hid her face in her hands she felt tears on her face that she had cried in her sleep.

Hemery was not in bed. The sun seemed to have risen not too long ago. Hanah knew she should get up and change her padding, but she could not be bothered. She turned on her side and pulled her knees up. She thought she found a slightly less agonizing position, drew the blanket over her eyes, and stayed that way.

"How are you feeling?" Hemery asked low from the doorway.

"Hmm. Not better. I need to rest a bit more."

"Are you hungry?"

She was, but the thought of breakfast or even the tea she could smell Hemery brew in the kitchen made her stomach churn.

"No."

* * *

At dusk, Hemery snuck out of the house and ran across the yard in the orange light of the setting sun. She knocked on the door to Dwalin's house. When she did not hear anything, she knocked again, harder.

"_What?_" Dwalin thundered when he tore the door open. "I said to not disturb me no matter—"

"I think she needs a healer."

Dwalin glanced at the house across the yard. "Why is that?"

"She's bleedin' . . . down there."

Dwalin growled in disapproval. "Womenfolk do that, ye know. I would have thought yer mother had taught ye these things."

"But this is different," Hemery said, willing him to understand. "It started yesterday, and she's bleedin' a lot. She hasn't moved all day."

He seemed to think it over a moment. It may have been Hemery's watery eyes or something in her voice that reached the stern dwarf, or he could very well be aware of the dangers surrounding women's intricate insides and was reluctant to leave her child bearing abilities to chance. Medical experience or no, Hemery knew that bleeding—wherever and whenever it occurred—was never good, and she was sure Dwalin knew as well.

Dwalin's sigh was deep as a mountain chasm. "Very well. I'll fetch someone."

"Thank you!" Hemery breathed out.

"I'll be back within the hour."

* * *

Hanah had watched the sunlight move on the wall of the alcove all day. She was tired, so tired. Tears escaped her eyes now and then, drying to salty sand at the corners of her eyes. Hemery had given her a bucket of water and a cloth to wash herself with, and she had changed into new underclothes. She did not know how long they would last.

A while ago, Hemery had decided to change the sheets on the bed. Hanah had told her to leave it, that she would do it herself, but Hemery had been adamant.

"Must be bad luck to sleep in a bed with old blood. You'll bring the wolves to our door with that."

Hanah had laughed, but it faded quickly as the stabbing resumed with the contracting of her stomach muscles.

Suddenly, the front door opened.

"Who is it?" Hanah called out to Hemery, but it was barely audible with her weak voice.

A dwarf appeared in the doorway. But not dressed in fur and leather trousers like Dwalin, but skirts and a purple tunic. And the dwarf had nearly no beard at all. Long, thick, dark hair was decorated with copper beads, and streaked with grey. A _dwarf woman_?

She knelt beside the bed. "Good evening, Hanah. I'm healer Elín. Dwalin called for me."

"Dwalin?" How did he—?

_Hemery_.

Hanah sighed. Hemery was worried about her and had gone for help. Nothing less than Hanah herself would have done, had the roles been reversed.

"What are you feeling?" Elín asked. Her voice was deep and soft, but her words were clipped.

"Pain, here," Hanah stroked the lower part of her belly.

"And this is not your usual bleeding, is it?" The dwarven woman looked at her closely.

"I don't think so."

Elín put fingers on Hanah's face. Turning it back and forth, she felt the soft skin beneath the jaw, behind the ears, and along her neck. Without warning she pulled the covers back and ran her hands over Hanah's stomach. It did not hurt Hanah more, but it was uncomfortable, and chilled her when cold air hit her skin. After a moment, she tucked Hanah back into her blanket.

"You're already too thin, even for mankind, and you've lost a lot of blood. Never a good combination," Elín said. "Hemery is brewing a tea for your pain."

"Thank you."

"Now, answer me; have you been with a male these last few months?"

Hanah stared at her. Then she nodded.

"And I can tell you have suffered physical stress and violence of late."

Unconsciously, Hanah touched her neck where the bruises had not quite faded.

"You were most certainly carrying a child. It is now lost."

Hanah looked at her. Elín's jaws were tight and her eyes grave.

"Oh." Hanah did not know what to say. She felt sick, but she was not sure if it was from her pain and hunger that had ravaged her stomach all day or from Elín's words. Hanah had planned this pregnancy, after all. She had even suspected it when the vomiting would not stop.

It seemed so stupid now; her plan for the future. Even if she had stayed at Blackwater, and even if she had been able to keep the child, she would not have wanted to go to Graham. Not after their last meeting. She would not have been able to demand anything from him, would not want anything from him, though she was very aware of Graham's own part in it. He had been a willing, active part in the conception. She had not tricked him. If she had forced him to marry her, it would have been his own doing as much as hers.

Her stomach churned again at the thought of a marriage to Graham through blackmail. Hanah sighed. _So incredibly stupid._

Elín narrowed her eyes at her. Hanah realized Elín had expected another reaction from her. She was sure it would have felt awful to lose a child if one had been wanted. A child born into a family and a good, safe home. But she did not feel it. Now she felt guilty for not showing the proper emotions for the situation. Guilt for not saying what Elín wanted her to.

Hemery came in with a steaming cup of tea.

"Drink it," said Elín.

Hanah took a sip. She made a grimace. It tasted like rancid fish and birch sap.

Elín held up a small bag. "No more than a tablespoon per cup of water. No more than two cups a day. Any more than that and you'll fall into a deep, deep sleep until it wears off."

Hanah nodded.

"The worst of the bleeding will pass soon. Then it will be less and less until it disappears completely. Blood may come and go as regular as rain, but if the monthlies do not return—come see me." Elín stood up to leave.

"Hemery," Hanah said. "Fetch the purse."

Hemery ran to the workshop and back, leaving the leather pouch in Hanah's hand. She could not sit up, but leaned on one elbow as she counted coins which she then handed to Elín who had stood silently waiting.

"I don't know what is customary. . ." Hanah began.

Elín regarded the coins in her hand before meeting Hanah's gaze. Her face softened a fraction, and. . .was that surprise? But she quickly corrected herself into a professional blankness.

"Gratitude," was all she said.

"I apologize for makin' you come here at this time of day. It will probably be dark before you return to the city," said Hanah.

"Do not trouble yourself. I have transport. Good evening to you."

* * *

A week later, Hemery knocked once more on Dwalin's door.

Spring had truly come to the Lonely Mountain. Most of the snow on Dwalin's yard had disappeared, and bird song echoed in the tall pines around their home.

She was not surprised when there was no answer. Hemery was very aware that Dwalin wished to be alone when he worked. As well as when he ate, when he was at the Inn, and when he was sleeping. She knocked again.

On the third knock, the door flung open, almost hitting Hemery had she not hopped out of the away in time.

"Are ye soft in the head, lass?" Dwalin growled.

Hemery's upper lip curved. "What?"

"Did yer mother drop ye on yer head as a wee bairn?"

"How should I know?"

"Do ye suffer from amnesia?"

"No."

"Then why can't ye follow a simple instruction? Did I or did I not tell ye never to disturb me."

"But I'm not disturbin' you," Hemery protested.

Dwalin seemed stumped. With only an eyebrow raising, this was the first time Hemery saw something other than deep glaring from him.

"I've come to thank you for all your help." With both hands she held up a wrapped package toward him. "We did not have anythin' to give you before now, because we've just started workin' again. Today is the first day we're goin' to the market in Dale."

He just looked at her, and when he did not say anything she thrust the package a little closer to him. Finally, he took it and unwrapped it.

It was a belt. Hemery had made it herself. It was about the width of a hand, branded with a vine design, with metal circles around the pin holes for durability.

Dwalin scrutinized it and grunted. "Is it supposed to go around my waist, or my wrist?"

He seemed to think it was too small. Hemery shrugged. "Do whatever you want with it."

Dwalin turned and walked inside again, but he did not close the door so Hemery followed him. He walked to the far wall where countless hooks were fastened to the wall, and hung the belt from one of them.

Hemery looked around. His house was similar to theirs in that his forge, where the big fire was, was connected to his living quarters. The fireplace glowed in the corner and radiated more heat than Hemery would be able to stand for a longer period of time. There were several anvils of different sizes, workbenches cluttered with hammers, pliers, and tongs, and shelves with knives, daggers, and swords neatly stored in wooden boxes.

Hemery stared at the smallest knives. So small, so light they seemed. Some no bigger than her palm. Inscribed with runes and geometric patterns. Some thin, some wide. Some rounded, some hooked. Some triangles, some stars.

"Oy," Dwalin said sternly. "No touchin'."

Hemery looked at her hand hovering above the star knife. She had not even realized she was about to touch it.

"Do you use all of these?" she asked.

"I'm a smith. I make—I sell. Same as you."

"But you know how?"

"Of course I know. I've trained since I was a wee lad."

"Did your father teach you?"

"Who else?" he muttered, but it seemed he was busying himself with something on the other side of the room.

"Can you teach me?"

Dwalin sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "What's with all these questions?" he grumbled louder.

"If I knew how to handle a knife, we would not need to be afraid."

He looked at her. "Ye should know it already. Ye mean to say, ye never held a knife?"

"Not the fightin' kind."

Dwalin sat heavily in a chair, bent low to pull out a box from beneath a bench. He dug his hand in and rummaged around among pieces of metal, making a terrible racket. He straightened with a square, metal plate in his hand.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her. She approached him and accepted the plate. It was as big as her hand, but thin as a fingernail. Black and dirty. Her hands became oily from touching it.

"Paint a mark, no bigger than yer thumb, on a tree. Step ten paces back and throw this at the mark. When ye can hit the mark, and make it stick, ten times in a row—"

Hemery touched the pointy corners. It was sharp enough that she could scratch herself very badly, but stick to a tree?

Dwalin continued. "Then I'll teach ye how to use a proper knife."

Hemery could not deny the spark that ignited in her chest at his words. She smiled carefully.

"Though I hoped my time wiping dwarflings' noses at the range was over," he growled. "Now, away with ye."


	7. Chapter 7 - An Unexpected Laugh

Thank you to all who follow and add this story, and to my reviewers: ScruffyBunny, KelseyBl, and Rhyska Nevar!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 7 - An Unexpected Laugh

* * *

Hanah needed to meet with Lord Fíli.

She had worked on the first coat for a week, and she was driving herself crazy. She constantly questioned every decision, from cut to colour, buttons to beading. She had bought paint to try out different looks.

_Coronation cloak of a king._ Lord Fíli's words.

When she thought of royals, she thought of white. No one who laboured ever wore white. But when she imagined thirteen white coats all in a row, she grimaced. It would look silly. Even if they were worn on different occasions, it would look like the same coat every time. She had already done black. It would not do to make the new coats resemble the old one.

Her beading designs were running out of steam. The only things she was really good at were vines, leaves, and flowers, all kinds and for all occasions, but it was not good enough here, not special enough. She needed something fresh, something solid, a theme. Hanah's ideas were stale and dried up like last season's grass. However, she did not want Lord Fíli to know that.

After mulling it over for a few days, she decided to visit her customer. She needed more information. She needed to see where he lived, how he dressed, to get an idea of what might be appropriate for her own work.

Hanah could tell her sister was not keeping up with her. Outside the giant entrance to the mountain, she turned around.

"Hem, what are you looking at?"

"Nothin'," came Hemery's automatic reply.

It was a nice sunny day, mild winds tugged on Hanah's hair knot. Her hair was too short to braid and even the knot would not hold for long. She tucked hair behind her ears as she looked around.

A lot of people were out this afternoon, dwarves mostly, going in and out of the mountain. Some market tents were raised along the road between Erebor and Dale, and on the grassy fields further away were groups and scattered people busy with target practice and what seemed to be combat training. Most of them wore what she had come to recognize as the crest of Durin. They had to be soldiers or members of the royal guard, Hanah thought.

Along the road and around the entrance were more guards, though these were on active duty, standing straight and carrying banners and full armour.

"Why don't you wait here," Hanah said.

"Alright," Hemery said.

"Really? No complaint?"

Hemery shrugged. Hanah looked at her a moment, but nodded.

"Here, buy yourself some sugared almonds." Hanah reached into her pocket for a silver coin.

"Don't we need it?" Hemery looked worried.

"I'm not sayin' spend all of it."

Hemery turned to the market tents, looking at the coin reverently.

"And save me some," Hanah called after her.

When Hanah approached the entrance, one of the guards along the path stepped in front of her.

"State yer name and business," he barked. Hanah had gotten used to Dwalin's tone of voice and interpreted this dwarf's utterance as quite polite—by dwarf standards.

There was an entire city in there with hundreds, hundreds, and hundreds of people, and they still wished to know her purpose there. She figured it was good for them to take security so seriously, but she could not completely erase the memory of Lady Brage's guards. These dwarven guards were big, armed, and meanlooking, so Hanah stopped immediately and did as she was told.

"My name is Hanah Skinner, and I'm a leathersmith. I have business with Lord Fíli."

The dwarf glanced at the guard next to him, but did not comment.

"Show your bag."

Hanah pulled the satchel from her shoulder and held it forth. He took it. He opened the bag, lifted some linnens and leathers out of the way. She opened her mouth and drew a breath to ask what he was doing, but was silenced by a stare before she could make a sound. He picked up a small, leather-bound toolkit.

"What's this?" he asked, leafing through it.

"It's needles and things. Tools."

His gaze bore into her.

"It's nothin' special, they're not dangerous or anythin'. I don't carry weapons, I promise." She tried to placate him.

"No weapons?" he echoed, and shared another look with his colleague. "You_ should_, miss." He gave the bag back to her. "Go on," he said as he stepped aside.

She blinked, but did not waste time lingering in case they changed their minds.

Inside the massive gate, there was a large room with an equally large gate a hundred yards ahead. Nothing decorated the walls in the anteroom but squares and lines carved in the stone. Runes, she realized. Runes from floor to ceiling, and even the floor was covered in them. Sand and twigs and pine needles filled in the deep patterns in the stone.

She could not see properly in the dim light when she had been in sunshine the moment before, but beyond the second gate she noticed a long table straight ahead which seemed to be a reception area. In here there were more guards stationed along the walls. People moved back and forth through the entrance, some hurried and some strolling wrapped in conversation. Dwarves dressed in light grey tunics and robes attended the table, shuffling papers, and speaking and gesticulating vigorously to newcomers as well as each other.

Hanah approached one dwarf who was not engaged in any discussion.

"Excuse me," she said. "Can you tell me where I could find Lord Fíli?"

He looked startled for a moment. "Is there a scheduled appointment for your visit?"

Scheduled? As in, planned in advance? "Eh. . . no," she said.

"His excellency does not simply receive anyone who walks into Erebor. You need to apply to the office for a scheduled appointment." The dwarf placed a stack of papers before her. She looked at each page in turn. She did not understand what the text on them said.

As Hanah stood there, one particularly large group of dwarves came into the reception area from somewhere within the mountain, talking loudly over each other, clearly on their way outside. Despite carrying swords, they were dressed formally with tunics and trousers in different shades of dark red, blue, or purple, all decorated in hair and beard with metals and minerals. They were followed by four regular guards, completely outfitted with helmets, spears, swords, and shields on their backs. They looked important and she could tell the steward's attention was not directed at her anymore.

She tried to speak over the clamor of the passing group as well as the general noise of everyone in the reception hall echoing on the tall, stone walls.

"Maybe you could deliver a message for me?" she asked the steward.

The steward turned back to her with a stony expression. "You are of course allowed to write him or his office a letter and send as regular correspondence, that would be no business of mine—now would it?" His tone was one of forced patience.

"But that could take weeks." And Hanah did not know how to write. "These orders have been requested by Lord Fíli personally, and he's goin' to—"

"Wait—what was that?" a voice behind her asked.

Hanah turned around. The loud group of dwarves had stopped some ten feet away.

"Did someone mention my name?" one of them spoke.

First, she just stared. Two of them looked at her, while the other two looked between themselves questioningly. Then she recognized them. The two dwarves closest to her had been at the cottage in Blackwater. The black haired and the blond. It was _him_. Lord Fíli.

"_Yes._ I did," Hanah blurted quickly, fearing she would hesitate too long and they would move on. "I wish to speak to you, m'lord. About your order."

He looked at her a moment, no flicker of recognition or otherwise change in demeanor. "Of course," he finally replied. He turned to his comrades. "I'll meet you there."

"Now is not the time—" an older, grey haired dwarf began.

"Relax. No one's attacking," the young black haired said, seemingly thinking his friend was overreacting.

"Half an hour," Lord Fíli assured them. "Go ahead."

Slowly, the others continued their path to the exit. The black haired touched his fist to Lord Fíli's shoulder before joining them.

Before Hanah could even begin to explain her errand, he moved past her. "Walk with me," he said, motioning the way with his hand to a wide staircase on the left.

"What brings you to Erebor so early?" he asked as they ascended. "Is the craft of the peltmaster so impressive the order is already completed?"

"No, m'lord," Hanah said, but quickly changed her mind when she realized it sounded as if the master was not impressive. "I mean, we decided that. . . it would be beneficial for us to travel earlier than planned." Not a total lie. She had indeed decided that it would be better for her and her sister not to remain in Blackwater at present.

He glanced at her as they walked side by side. "I see."

On the third landing he turned into a large corridor. There were no guards stationed here as there had been on the other floors. Just burning torches and long tapestries hung on the walls between the wide doors.

"Well then. What is on the agenda for today, Mistress Skinner?"

Dwarves really did have good memory. Most customers did not bother with names.

"It would be best for this project if we were able to take exact measurements for the coats, but. . . perhaps this is a bad time?" She thought about the others who were waiting for him.

He sighed, but shook his head. "Calling this a bad time suggests there is such a thing as a good time. We'll just have to make time." He smiled tiredly as he opened a door for her to step through.

They entered a study. A fire burned in the fireplace, a large desk sat in the far end of the room, bookshelves and tapestries hid the walls. There was a closed door to the left. It was quiet, except for the crackle of the fire, none of the echoing noise that seemed to reach every other corner of the mountain.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Oh, you can't really do anything," Hanah replied. That did not sound right. "I mean, you don't _have to_ do anything."

She looked at him apprehensively, but he just looked back, face completely blank. Almost deliberately so.

Hanah brought out a bundle of linens and her needles. The linens unfolded into a thin, white copy of a coat design. It consisted of four lengths of cloth, only stitched together at the shoulders, leaving the rest to simply hang straight down. Hanah paused before approaching him.

"Stand here, please." She motioned him a little closer to the fire light.

He did as she asked. She dressed him in the linen coat lengths, adjusting and tugging them to make them level and fall naturally from his shoulders. Then she began fastening them together with needles.

"So where are you staying?" Lord Fíli asked.

"We rent a house outside Dale, from Master Dwalin."

"Is that so? He has not mentioned keeping new tenants."

"We've only been there a week or so. How many layers do you suppose should fit underneath?" she changed the subject.

"Shirt, leather tunic, chainmail, perhaps some pauldrons."

"I'll make them adjustable beneath the arms," she concluded.

There was silence a long moment while Hanah worked. She stole some glances at the textiles on the walls. Some were weaved, some were embroidered. Very sharp lines, points, pyramids, squares, and other shapes with even more edges than that. Zigzags and stars. And runes, up and down and across, letters making shapes in clusters, transforming the tapestries to labyrinths and landscapes with hidden messages.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?" Hanah was abruptly brought out of her revery.

"You look like you're solving a puzzle. Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem." She refocused on the needles in her hand.

"I'm not too big, am I?" he asked.

Hanah looked up in astonishment. "What?" she asked.

"I am quite strong, you know. Don't feel bad if the peltmaster's coat is not large enough to accommodate my grand stature."

Hanah snorted unladylike in a sudden laugh. Immediately, she covered her mouth to stop anything else from escaping unbidden. Her eyes widened in horror at what she had just done. She took in his serious expression. She had laughed at her employer. She had laughed at his stocky, dwarven appearance. She had just killed whatever business they might have had at the Lonely Mountain.

Hanah's thoughts spun out of control. She and Hemery would have to leave and never come back. Hanah would be lucky to leave the mountain unscathed. Why, _oh why_, could she never keep her mouth shut? She tensed every muscle in her body, waiting for his judgement.

Lord Fíli smiled. Dimples showed in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Hanah slowly removed her hand from her mouth, still staring at him in shock.

"I merely jest," he explained.

A breath of air left Hanah in a relieved half-laugh. She tried to smile back, but she did not know whether she succeeded. He chuckled, probably in amusement over her flustered behavior.

"Forgive me," she breathed, small huffs of air still left her, almost like coughs. "I wasn't prepared." She waved a hand as if to erase what she just said. "I didn't expect. . ."

"But that's when it's the most enjoyable," he said, laughing now.

She could not help but join in. It was contagious. Suddenly, it was the funniest thing in the world. She could not remember the last time she had laughed this hard. For a moment she had to brace herself, holding one hand on his shoulder to keep from doubling over. And his face with unguarded eyes, showing rows of teeth in his own unhibited laugh was. . .

She did not know what it was. Warm and inviting. Like they understood each other and laughed at themselves; at his joke and her reaction and the strange situation that arose because of it, all at once. Like they had their own private moment, separate from the rest of the world, here in this room—which was very secluded, she suddenly realized.

Hanah sobered then. She was there to work, otherwise it was inappropriate for them to be in this room together, alone.

She calmed herself, straightened, and avoided his eyes as she continued adjusting the linens.

"So what occupies your mind if not the girth of my belly?" he asked.

"I was just admirin' the decorations. Is that your language? Those runes."

"Yes. Very old._ Very secret_," he whispered conspiratorially.

"And only . . . your people speak it?"

"Originally, yes. But after a hundred and seventy years of dwarves scattered in the wind all over Middle Earth, and then twenty more years of retying close connections with men and elves around the Lonely Mountain, some is bound to be picked up by keen ears."

"Its runes are displayed everywhere. Must be hard to keep secret."

"Well, we shouldn't have to lock up all our treasures to prevent theft. Some things should just remain untouched."

She thought about that. One should not need to hide gold underneath the floorboards, and even if one did it, someone would look for it, find it, and steal it.

"I suppose so," she agreed. She crouched down to level the bottom hem. "Sadly, it seems whenever people suspect you have somethin' you don't deserve—they will try to take it."

"What has been stolen from you then, Mistress Skinner?"

She compared her fate with that of the dwarves of Erebor. Her troubles did not seem to be in remotely the same category. Her home had not been taken by a fire breathing dragon. Although the imagery quickly brought Lady Brage to her minds eye, with a serpent's tongue and smoking nostrils. But at least her kin had not been burned alive by her.

"Nothin' that can't be replaced," Hanah settled.

"You did not attempt to reclaim it?"

"I don't have much experience with conflict, but I know when I'm bein' outmaneuvered."

Hanah stood then, put her needles away, and lifted the linen pieces from Lord Fíli's shoulders. Carefully she rolled them together, making sure no needles were visible from the outside before placing it back in her bag.

"Thank you for your time, m'lord."

"My pleasure." He smiled politely.

They left together, but instead of going back the way they came, they continued all the way through the corridor and exited onto an enormous landing, where people moved as if on a city road. Guards once more occupied the entrance to every door. Directly in front of Hanah, beyond the railing, was a two hundred feet drop down past several floor just like the one where they stood, where balconies jutted out and banners in different colours swayed in the breeze from the main entrance below.

Slowly, Hanah walked to the edge and looked down. She could scent spring on the air as the wind caressed her face. In the mountain it was much colder than outside, the sun only brightened half of the gigantic hall. Sunbeams, like fallen pillars of light, rested from the southern openings in the mountainside and reached the far wall where they touched statues tall as trees and, between them, another large door leading into the depths of Erebor.

Birds sat on the railings or darted in and out of the mountain through the tall windows above the gate, their song bouncing off the walls, creating echoes in higher and lower pitch.

Hanah could see people down on the first floor, like mice, casting shadows on the floor ten times their height. The ceiling was domed, set with crystals which glittered like the night sky. The levels all had pillars connecting them to each other, and everything was straight, sharp lines: horizontal, vertical, and diagonal. The staircases turning from left to right, the doorways narrowing at the top, the floor set in square and rectangular stones in different shades and ever expanding shapes.

Lord Fíli came to stand next to her.

"I understand," she whispered, mostly to herself.

"What was that?"

"I've heard of cities and palaces, but I never thought—" The air was drawn from her lungs as the looked down again. Her wide eyes teared up from trying to see every detail as clearly as possible. Even the stone railing beneath her hands was cut like pointy waves frozen in motion, in larger and smaller ripples.

"I mean, look at this." She ran her hand along the smooth polished stone, and bent low to look on every side. "How does one even plan somethin' as intricate as this? It must have taken—" She straightened. "So many people, and so many years. And look at the—" She pointed at the patterns around the doors and above the balconies, but stopped herself. She was rambling.

"Forgive me. I'm keepin' you from your work, m'lord." She looked at him then.

"Not at all." His smile was still polite, but his voice had softened. "My eyes have grown accustomed to this sight. It's refreshing to see it anew through someone elses."

They walked down a long flight of stairs before crossing the anteroom and into the sunshine.

"I was wondering," Hanah began as they stopped outside the gate. "If I might make an appointment two weeks from now, to display the first piece of the series for inspection?"

"I have trust in you and the peltmaster. There is no need."

"We should do this continually until it is done, to prevent any misunderstandings and unexpected. . . issues," Hanah insisted. She would be damned if they would have one more dissatisfied customer. "And it was difficult to be allowed in there, so. . . that's why I ask."

He seemed amused now, but still polite. "Of course. I'll make a note of it."

"Thank you, m'lord." Hanah began to look around. She had expected to see Hemery as soon as she left the mountain, but she did not spot her sister in the stream of people.

"Something the matter?" Lord Fíli asked. He must have noticed she was too distracted to properly bid farewell.

"Where's Hemery? She was supposed to wait for me." She raised her hand toward the tents and began walking. "She was right here. Hemery? _Hem?_" She looked around. "_Hemery?_" Her voice cracked with panic. What could have happened to her? Surely, the landlord could not have come all this way—?

"Hey!" Hemery called suddenly. Hanah turned toward the sound. Her sister was waving to her where she stood out in the field next to a line of people, men and dwarves, who seemed to be watching the soldiers shoot arrows and throw knives at targets. "Look!" Hem shouted and pointed excitedly.

Hanah let out a sigh of relief. She returned to the noble dwarf whom she had left standing by the side of the road.

"Apologies, m'lord. I thought. . ." She could not speak the words. "Anyway, I'll not keep you any longer. Good day."

He did not return the farewell, however.

"What misfortune has befallen the pair of you since we last met?" All softness of tone and polite smiles had left Lord Fíli. Only the grim expression typical of his people remained.

Hanah looked at Hemery where she stood transfixed by the skill of the soldiers. At that moment, no one could have guessed what she had been through in the last weeks. Not to mention that some of it had been Hanah's fault.

"Travel is never simple," she said. "Not even the short way between Blackwater and Dale."

"The peltmaster did not travel with you?"

She tensed. "No, he. . .he had other business." She cringed inwardly at the deception, but she still did not trust he would keep her employed if he knew a mere girl was performing the master's work in his permanent absence.

"Something has you scared. The panic in your eyes when you thought the girl gone. You feared something particular just then."

She did not answer.

"There's traces of bruising on you. And your hair. . ."

She raised her hands to check the knot. Much had escaped the cord at the nape of her neck.

"I'm not aware of any female who would willingly cut her hair short."

Hanah wanted to refuse to answer and walk away, but he was still a noble and her main source of income. Besides, he had a part in what had happened. A small part, but a part none the less.

"What made you leave Blackwater?" he insisted.

"They thought I was a spy," she finally said. She looked to gauge his reaction. His grave expression had sharpened, but aimed at her. Surely, he did not think she was a threat as well?

She sighed. "For you. They found some of the gold you gave me, and thought I was a spy for the dwarves." It was half the truth, anyway.

The storm clouds cleared from his eyes, but was soon replaced with a trouble look.

"What did they do to you?" he asked, though he did not really seem to want to hear the answer.

"Not much. We managed to get away before the landlords had decided what to do with me. But we can never go back."

"I'm truly sorry. Lord Brage's grievance is with us. Your family should never have suffered for it," he said.

Hanah felt a little guilty about basically blaming him for her exile, but he had pushed her to speak of it. "What is their grievance with you, if you don't mind me askin'?"

He shook his head and rubbed his eyebrows. "It's no secret," he said. "During Smaug's presence here, dwarves from Erebor took work in mines and smithies wherever they could. A few dozen mined at Blackwater, but in the service of Lord Brage and his father's before him. The Brage's had claimed the land and discovered the findings therein. After we reclaimed the mountain, the dwarves who worked at Blackwater returned here, leaving Brage to mine his own ridge. Eight years later, there was a collapse in that mine."

Hanah remembered and nodded in agreement, but did not want to interrupt.

"Lord Brage's two sons died in those tunnels. And even though it was long after the dwarves had left, they blamed the collapse and their sons' deaths on us."

Hanah had been very small when it happened so she did not remember that. Naturally, few spoke of it nowadays. She understood now Lady Brage's outrage at Hanah's suspected treachery.

"Since then, relations have been . . . tense between Erebor and Blackwater. I do not believe Lord Brage, in his heart, thinks dwarves were to blame, but grief still clouds his judgement. Dwarves are not welcome there, though they know Blackwater is the best place to rest on the journey between Erebor and the Iron Hills, trade routes are cut off and detours delay transport all along the ridge. We have ongoing talks, but they're mostly charades. Both parties agree to make their best effort to work toward the common good of the communities, but nothing changes. Lord Brage expands his borders and encourages hostility towards dwarves."

"Still you go there with only a handful of dwarves with you?" She had seen them in the Big House at Blackwater. Although, she had been a little preoccupied with her own problems to take note of their well-being at the time.

"They would not dare attempt anything against a royal ambassador." His reply was framed by a humourless smirk. "Buying a coat which was intended for Brage was just a small pleasure I allowed myself after another pointless meeting."

"But you knew they didn't want it. You were there." Hanah still found it embarrassing to think about that day.

"Lady Brage would change her mind. She always does." He shrugged. "And I wanted it. It was a very nice coat."

They stood quiet a moment.

"Had I known—" Lord Fíli began. He put a hand to his heart. "I am profoundly sorry you were a victim of the Brage's paranoia, because of me. I will make it up to you in any way I can."

"Please, there's no need, m'lord." Hanah grimaced and willed him to stop apologizing. He was a noble who did not need to ask anyone's forgiveness, and it made her feel terrible for not confessing to her own part in the crimes for which she had been accused.

"No one could have known that was going to happen. I wasn't in Lady Brage's favour to begin with. Our days of business in Blackwater were numbered. We have been very lucky to be able to settle here. Only. . ." Hanah paused.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you should have a little more care about paying in gold."


	8. Chapter 8 - Unexpected Tricks

Thanks to everyone who follows and favourites, and my reviewers: KelseyBl, FeeKilico, and Rhyska Nevar!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

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Chapter 08 - Unexpected Tricks

* * *

"I did it! I did it!" Hemery came running at Dwalin as he sat in the sun outside his forge. She stopped in front of him on the fresh, green grass which covered more and more of the yard each day.

"Did what?" he asked, completely unaffected by her exulted mood. He did not even look up from stuffing his pipe.

"It stuck ten times. I thought it'd never work, but I fuckin' did it!"

"Oy, watch yer mouth." He finally looked up at her and pointed at her with his pipe. "What would yer mother say?"

Hemery curved her upper lip, as she always did when she thought Dwalin did not make sense. "But you say it all the time." She shrugged.

"I do no such thing." Dwalin struck a match on his thumbnail and lit his pipe.

"Yes, you do. You said it when the snow began to melt and it fell from your roof and crushed your sleigh."

Dwalin only hummed low.

"And that time when you called the king a stubborn, old goat."

"I said he was as stubborn _as _an old goat. I never called the king a goat, and how in the bloody halls of Mahal do ye know that?"

"It was that day when Hanah was so stressed, and I came here to get out of her hair, and your friend came to visit and you told me to make tea. I heard you talkin' from the kitchen."

"He's not my friend, he's my brother Balin. And you shouldn't be listening in on private conversations."

Hemery tilted her head and chose her words as if wishing to spare his feelings. "I don't know if anyone ever told you this, but you can be very loud," Hemery informed him.

His eyes bore into her a long moment. Then the tension seemed to fade from his shoulders and he drew on his pipe.

"After fightin' in two battles and reclaimin' our mountain, I've earned the right to say whatever I please. And you'll not exhaust such a crude word for simply hittin' a tree that doesn't move with a piece of metal."

He sat back against the wall and smoked his pipe slowly, almost as if forgetting Hemery was there.

"So you said you'd teach me how to use a real knife if I stuck it to a tree ten times, and I did."

"Then show me," he grunted.

"Here?"

He peered at her through narrowed eyes. "Forgive me for not takin' yer word for it, lass. But you'd better hurry before my pipe burns out and I go back inside."

Hemery pursed her lips in frustration, but walked up to the nearest birch, took out the coal from her pocket and made a mark at eye level. She stepped ten paces from the birch and aimed with the makeshift blade Dwalin had given her. It was a bit dented now, and not as sharp as it once was, but it soared true when it flew from her hand.

Hemery had learned some tricks to throwing things. She did not hold tightly to it all through the arch of her arm, but only the very last flick of her wrist, and only at the tip of the square. The blade stuck to the tree with a _chuck_.

She ran up to it and saw she had hit the mark. "One," she called to Dwalin.

He said nothing, just drew on his pipe.

Hemery stepped to throw again. The steel bounced with a _zing_ off the bark. She ran to fetch it back.

"In a row, mind," Dwalin reminded her in a lazy rumble.

Hemery gritted her teeth and threw. "_One_," she called again.

"So what battles have you fought in?" Hemery asked.

"Shouldn't you focus on the task at hand?"

"I can't focus when I know you're sittin' there, starin' at me. Say somethin'." Hemery threw. "Two."

"Azanulbizar and the Battle of Five Armies. Orcs as far as the eye could see. What more is there to say?"

"Were you hurt?"

"Aye. Would have thought ye'd noticed the scars," he pointed at his face, "as yer so observant of everythin' else."

"Three." Hemery glanced at him after her hit. "You were never scared?"

"Fear is good. Keeps you sharp. As long as ye don't let it take over. As long as ye move, rely on yer trainin', don't hesitate. Trust yerself."

"Four. But if you don't have trainin'? What then?"

"Then ye stay away from battles."

"And if the battle comes to you?"

Dwalin sighed. "I'm guessin' we're not talkin' about orcs now are we?"

Hemery shook her head.

"Then ye fight for survival, tooth and nail. Use every dirty trick, take every cheap shot, kick 'em when they're down and have no mercy, because they will have none on you."

"And you're not talkin' about orcs?" Hemery was confused. It sounded as though he was speaking of fighting heartless, soulless creatures.

"Someone who wishes ye harm is an enemy, no matter what race."

Hemery thought of the people at Blackwater who took Hanah away and hurt her. She did not like many people, but it still felt strange to think of other men as enemies. When Dwalin said it like that it made a lot more sense.

"Five. Why don't you like the king?" Hemery changed the subject.

"_Lass_," Dwalin barked suddenly. She turned to face him fully. He leaned forward with one hand on his knee and the other held the pipe which he pointed at her. "I will only say this once so listen good; I have never, and will never, speak ill of the king. And ye'd do well to remember never to say anythin' that may let people to believe ye do not respect him, or it will be worse for ye."

Hemery listened wide eyed, but with furrowed brow. "But you said—"

"I know what I said," Dwalin's face twisted in a wince, and held up one hand to stop her. "And it's one thing to speak in confidence with yer brother in the sanctity of yer own home, and quite another to vent personal issues out in broad daylight. Now throw."

Hemery did as he said, but did not keep silent. "So you know the king? Personally?"

He snorted, it sounded like the huff of a bear. "Ye could say that."

"Six. I did say that, would you say that?"

"Aye, we were brothers in arms. Ventured on a long journey together from Ered Luin to Erebor."

"What's Ered Luin?"

"_What's Ered_—" Dwalin almost choked on pipe smoke. "Ered Luin are the Blue Mountains in the west. What have ye been taught in school, eh?"

"I've never been to school."

He blew smoke out through his nose. "Well, that explains a lot," he muttered, along with a few other things Hemery could not distinguish.

"Seven. What happened on your journey?"

"We walked and walked for an eternity, and were almost killed a few times, but we made it here eventually. Then there were the dragon and the orc army to deal with, which seem like minor details compared to the elves and men we had to make nice with afterwards."

"You were there when the dragon died?" Hemery listened raptly.

"Well, not as such." Dwalin scratched his beard. "I _saw_ the dragon. And shortly thereafter it was dead."

"You didn't kill it?" Hemery felt like she had hundreds of questions.

"No, I didn't kill it," he grumbled, clearly annoyed. "Just throw, will ye," he ordered. Perhaps he would have liked to have been the one to kill it.

"Eight. So you're one of the dwarves who freed the mountain so that everyone could move back?"

He shrugged and smoked his pipe.

Hemery was confused. "But then, aren't you a hero? Shouldn't you live in the mountain too?"

"Are ye finished?" He stood up.

"What?"

"Well, I am." Dwalin knocked his pipe against the doorframe, emptying it from burnt weed.

"But I still have two to go," Hemery protested.

"Should've thrown more, talked less. Better luck tomorrow." With those words he closed the door to his forge.

* * *

At the same moment, Hanah packed her bag with material to attend the meeting with Lord Fíli. She had the first coat ready, and had made samples for colour and designs of the other twelve to show him, and hopefully get his approval for all. While she was double checking her packing, Hemery burst through the door to the shop, her hands dirty from throwing that piece of metal junk at the trees outside.

"That dwarf is coming!" she called.

"What?" Hanah asked, though she had heard her sister perfectly. "Which one?" Hanah moved past Hemery to the door. "Go wash your hands," she added before opening the door.

On the other side, looking as though he had just been about to knock, stood Lord Fíli.

"M'lord, what are you doin' here?" Hanah asked in surprise. "I was just about leave."

He smiled and held up one hand. "I know we had agreed to meet in the mountain, but I was also planning to see Dwalin, so I thought it would be best if I came to you. If it's not an inconvenience?"

"I suppose not," Hanah said.

"Are you going to invite me in?" His smile remained polite, but his eyebrows rose.

"Of course. Please, enter." Hanah stepped out of the way.

They had not lived there long enough for the shop to be as cluttered as their previous one. They had assembled another table to have room for both girls to work, and the shelves were already filling up with base goods. Boots, aprons, and gloves mostly, but also a handful of Hemery's bracelets. In fact, most of it had Hemery crafted. Hanah had been busy with other things.

"This is a good space," Lord Fíli commented, looking at the large windows and the light they let in, and the surfaces. Hooks on the walls supported bags with smaller supplies; threads, buttons, buckles, cords, ribbons. Boxes were placed in rows on the table, keeping needles, knives, scissors, and other tools separate.

"You must have lost much in your. . . relocation. Do you have everything you need?" he asked.

Hanah nodded. "Yes, we'll manage. Most of this is new. It was years of collected supplies in that shop."

"I will replace all of it," he said.

"There's no need for that," Hanah began, but he ignored her and brought out a purse.

"It's the least I can do", he said.

Though she dearly wanted it, she knew better by now than to accept money too easily gained. "Thank you for your concern, but there's truly no need."

"I insist," he said.

"As do I, m'lord," she said, as respectfully as she could.

He still held out the purse, waiting for her to take it. Hanah turned to the table and began unfolding the coat and the samples from her bag. She heard him come to stand beside her. She felt her cheeks burn just from being aware of his scrutiny on her work.

The base was dyed a bluish green. It was impossible to tell which colour dominated. The shoulders were reinforced with layers of different sized leather squares, their corners pointing out toward the shoulder, toward the neck, straight down the back, and down in the front. These levelled patchworks were mirrored all the way down the front, like dices balancing on eachother. On the back was one large square surrounded by expanding lines of beads exaggerating the pattern. The inside was covered in brown fur.

Accentuating the square pattern was the shimmering glow of round, flat, and cylinder copper beads. In the middle of each leather square was a copper plate Hanah herself had imprinted with a stylized flower in sharp angles which made it look like a star.

The vivid bluish green and the orange, fiery glow of copper made the coat seem misplaced in the shabby workshop. And it was; Hanah had made it for the polished marble halls of Erebor.

Lord Fíli pursed his lips and nodded. "Hmm."

"All the items will have different colours and different combinations of decorations." She displayed the samples next to the coat, like playing cards. "If you're unhappy with anything, just let me know and we'll fix it." Hanah almost bounced on the balls of her feet. She wanted to know what he thought, even if he hated it—she did not care. She just needed to know so she could rethink the design, if that was what he wished.

He carefully turned it over, lifted it to feel the material, to touch the beading and the stitching and the fur.

"Well?" Hanah asked. She knew she was being too impatient and bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's interesting," he replied. "The design, it's. . .very original." He sounded as if he was trying to think of things to say, stalling, and leading up to a nice way of saying it was not what he wanted.

"The coat is quite nice."

Quite nice? Hanah could hardly retain his statement. She had been preparing herself for a potential rejection, but as he said this—she could not believe it.

He continued. "Decent leather work. Good even, I'd say."

Hanah did not know what to say.

"_What?_" Disbelief laced the tone, but though it portrayed Hanah's thoughts, it was not she who had spoken. She turned to see Hemery in the doorway to the kitchen.

"That work is perfect, and you'd better not insult her and my father by saying it's _decent_."

"Hem!" Hanah barked. Her little sister quietened, but lowered her chin and kept glaring at Lord Fíli.

"My lord, I—" Hanah looked at him in order to apologize, but he did not seem angry. He smiled crookedly.

"You didn't let me finish," he explained to them, though he was in no hurry to continue his critique. "What I was going to say, was that the leather work is good, _but_—" he paused deliberately to make sure he had their attention. "The decor; the colour, the stitching, the beading—that is what makes the work excellent."

His calm manner was not quite schooled enough for Hanah to not detect a hint of smugness.

"Thank you, m'lord," said Hanah. Hemery had enough sense to remain silent.

"Do you have pen and paper?" he asked.

Hanah fetched a clear sheet from her sketch pile, and a coal pencil.

"Here are the names of the best craftsmen who make metal, stone, and jewel beads, and anything bone related," he said as he scribbled. "Tell them I sent you and they won't charge you any limbs."

He gave the paper to Hanah. She looked at it a moment. She took a breath to speak, but changed her mind. She figured she could always ask Dwalin what the note said, if she felt the need. When she looked up, she found Lord Fíli regarding her with a bemused expression.

"Is my script that bad?"

"No, not at all,"she said, depositing the paper on the table.

"Can you not read?" he asked.

The blunt question stumped her momentarily. She had never before felt the urge to hide the fact that she could not read until now. Living at Blackwater she had never needed to read, knowing where everything was, who everyone were. But of course Lord Fíli knew how to read and write, and for some reason she was ashamed of her ignorance.

"Not very well, no," she admitted.

"And you?" he asked Hemery. She shook her head.

"Whyever not?"

"Never seemed to be enough time," Hanah shrugged.

"Well, you should definitely take the opportunity while you're here," he said lightly, as if he had solved the problem. "Erebor has a massive library, hardly ever used. You're welcome to it whenever you like."

"Do you have books?" Hemery asked.

Hanah was not sure if Hemery wanted confirmation of the fact that there was a library, or if she did not know libraries contained books.

He smiled. "Thousands. About mining, sword fighting, crafting. History, myths, and legends from far away lands." His tone grew dramatic and intriguing. Hemery did not say anything, but her eyes were a little wider.

"Thank you. That's very generous," Hanah said, though she had no intention of taking him up on his offer.

"My generosity means nothing if you won't accept it."

Hanah looked away then.

"Is this ready for delivery?" he asked suddenly, motioning toward the coat.

She nodded and began to pack it up.

"What did we say? One hundred and thirty?"

Hanah's eyebrows shot up instantly. "We most certainly did not," Hanah stated firmly, with a hand on her hip. Gone was the awkwardness of the past moment. "That was the first one," she clarified. "This is as different from that as a coronation cloak is from a burial shroud." She repeated the words spoken at Blackwater.

He pursed his lips in contemplation, but she could tell a smile was restrained with the action. He tucked his thumbs into his belt and raised his chin. "Name your price."

"Two hundred and fifteen." She needed two hundred to profit from the coat.

His eyes narrowed. "_Deal_," he replied suddenly, reaching out his hand for her to shake.

"But—that's not the way," Hanah protested.

"You said two hundred and fifteen. Is that not what you want? Because then I think it's you who don't know how this works."

"You're supposed to haggle."

"Says who? I pay what I wish, and I wish to pay two hundred and fifteen, or you can keep the coat." He still had his hand reached out. "Deal?"

Hanah could not keep the utterly confused scowl off her face, but she took his hand and shook it. "Deal."

He grinned in earnest now. He brought out a purse which he opened and shook a bit, as if calculating its contents. Then he handed it to Hanah and received the wrapped coat in exchange. Hanah emptied the purse into her hand.

"_My lord_," Hanah exclaimed in the same voice she used on Hemery when she discovered she had neglected the dishes. "This is too much."

"Is it?" Lord Fíli replied, already on his way to the door, not at all bothered by the mistaken sum. "Don't worry, you can use gold freely in Dale and Erebor. No one will bat an eye."

Hanah looked back at her handful of silver and gold coins. She suspected this was the same purse he had tried to give her before.

"You must take this back."

"No, I don't," he said over his shoulder. Hanah followed him across the yard to Dwalin's house. Before entering the forge, he turned to her. "Consider it an investment. Good day, Mistress Skinner."

Hanah returned to the shop with annoyed, quick steps, but as soon as the door had closed behind her, she could not help but let out a relieved breath. She wanted to show her independence, but it was true—their resettlement, the house, new clothes and tools, materials, had taken more of their saved gold than she liked. He was right, in a way. Making the rest of the order required an investment she had no coin to make. This would help along the way.

At least she had put up a fight.


	9. Chapter 9 - Unexpected Assumptions

Thank you for adding and favouriting! And a big thank you to my reviewers: Jennlit, blaahblaahblaah, Akiluna, punky warhammer! Also special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 9 - Unexpected Assumptions

* * *

"Don't go too far," Hanah said to Hemery.

It was afternoon at the market in Dale. They had spent they day selling wares at a table and were able to work on orders at the same time. Hanah stitched decorative leather ribbons and patches, or imprinted copper and silver plates with an iron pencil. Hemery braided leather cords and silver thread for her bracelets and necklaces.

After work was done for the day Hanah needed to do some bead business and so Hemery went to look at the other tables that were still up. There were dwarves and men selling everything from tools to clothes, swords to sweets, cheese to jewelery. Hemery was surveying a table of silver necklaces when a voice startled her.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

She flinched and looked up. It was Lord Fíli.

"They're decent," she replied, returned her focus to the table, and earned a chuckle.

"That's quality dwarven craft there, lass. You sure you're not underestimating it?"

When she looked at him, he was smiling. She did not think it funny.

"I can make necklaces and bracelets myself. And soft ones, as well, that follows the skin when you move, not stiff, cold chunks of metal just hangin' on a chain." She looked at the dwarf standing by the table, who had probably crafted them. "No offense," she said.

They really were beautiful, with intricate, detailed designs that demanded a lot of skill, but she did not want to admit that to Lord Fíli. The dwarf did not take offense, though. He did not seem to even notice she was there, his attention solely on Lord Fíli. She would never bow so low to a customer—lord or no lord. When she grew up, she would do the best work and people would seek her out and treat her with respect.

"Does Mistress Skinner happen to be at the market today?" he asked.

"She's busy," Hemery replied tersely, hoping to convey the sense that he should not bother her unless absolutely necessary. She did not have time to run back and forth to Erebor at his beck and call.

Hemery moved on to the next table which was covered in glass bowls, cups, and plates in different sizes with various colours swirling within. From the beam overhead, which steadied the canvas roof, hung small, glass figures. Hemery could see birds, cats, dogs, fishes, and snowflakes.

Lord Fíli nodded to the glassblower and took one of the figures off its hook.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked Hemery.

It was a fish no bigger than his thumb, but its tail and fins were twice its size and frozen in motion like flags billowing in the wind. Within the glass were streaks of blue, green, and gold. She shrugged, pretending to be unimpressed.

"It's a fish."

He nodded in exaggerated appreciation. "Indeed it is. You have a keen eye. But it is no ordinary fish. This is a wanderer. In the summer they live in the reefs of the ocean west of Ered Luin."

"The Blue Mountains." Hemery was quick to express her new knowledge.

"That's right," he smiled. Hemery pushed her lips together to suppress a pleased smile of her own.

"And in the winter," he continued, "they swim south from the Gulf of Lune all the way to the outlet of the Anduin river."

"Is that far?"

"It would take months to travel on foot. If you happen to be on a boat off shore on the right day, you may find yourself in a sea with all the colours of the rainbow like blossoming flowers beneath the surface."

"Why do they swim all that way?"

"To escape the cold, and find the right place to live—where they belong."

He handed her the glass fish. She looked at it closely. Its eyes were specks of gold that shot through its body and flowed out into the long tail.

"They see the world," he said.

"From under water," Hemery added.

"That's part of the world, too."

"Yeah, but it's dark and cold in the water."

"I see your point." Lord Fíli bit his lip in thought. "I should have showed you this instead."

He snatched the fish from her palm and replaced it with a bird with purple feathers.

"This also travels from the mountains in the north to the deserts in the south during winter. _And_ this one sees it all from the sky."

"That sounds a bit better," Hemery admitted. She thought about Dwalin's stories about his long travels. These dwarves had all done so much, knew so much, had been to so many places, while she had only known Blackwater. "Have you been to the Blue Mountains?"

"Aye, I have." He hung the glass figures back.

"What's it like there?"

"Dwarves living under ground, mining, crafting. Kind of the same as here, but not as nice as Erebor of course." He winked.

"Where else have you been?"

"Everywhere between there and here. The Shire, the Misty Mountains, Mirkwood, and a few visits to the Iron Hills. All dwarves here have once lived somewhere else. Other mountains or other cities, or mainly traveling all the time, working in different places.

"And why did you come here?"

"Everybody has somewhere they belong, and this is my home."

"But how do you know?"

"You know it when you feel it. Maybe you will need to travel and see the world before you know where you belong and decide to settle down."

"I don't like to travel. I'm no good at it. When we came here, we had only been walkin' for two days, and I was dirty and hungry and tired. I don't ever want to do that again."

He frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. But it doesn't have to be like that. You can ride a horse instead of walk, and stop to rest in villages with proper Inn's, sleep in a real bed. Learn how to take care of yourself on the road, how to hunt and how to make a fire so you're never hungry or cold. Sometimes there are caravans of people who travel together in big groups to protect and help each other on their way to trade in other cities. You learn craft from each other and make things together. You should give it a try someday."

Hemery was so wrapped up in what Lord Fíli was saying that she hardly noticed Hanah approaching them.

"Hem, it's time to go," she said when she appeared by her side. "Oh—Hello, Lord Fíli," she added, turning to him.

Hemery was pretty sure Hanah had known it was him standing there before she came over, the surprise in her voice was a little flat.

"Good afternoon, Mistress Skinner."

Hanah hefted the bag with their unsold wares higher on her shoulder. Hemery knew her sister was tired. She stayed up late in the evening, struggling to see her beads in low candle light, and went early to market, sitting hunched over her work, wearing out her back. When Hemery reminded Hanah how she should sit, she was only rewarded with sighs and a distanced _I know_, so she soon gave up trying. That bag did not help either, weighing down her right shoulder like it did.

Hanah was always focused on work, which was good, but she obsessed over details until she did not trust herself, and criticized herself to a point where it sometimes delayed her work. Hemery thought Hanah also needed see new places. She needed to compare her work to others'. She needed to know she was better than others.

And she knew Hanah blamed herself for the way they had to leave Blackwater.

"We should go to Ered Luin," Hemery told Hanah.

"Really? And why is that?" Hanah looked between Lord Fíli and her sister.

"To see the world and learn new things, so we can find where we belong."

Hanah tensed, but smiled. Hemery could tell it was not real.

"And we must travel to Ered Luin for that?" Hanah asked.

Hemery quitened. She had said something wrong. She did not know what it had been this time, but she was sure Hanah would tell her later.

"Dwalin is over there." Hanah raised her arm to the right. "Go help him pack and we can go home together."

Without a word or even a nod, Hemery did as she was told. Then Hanah and Lord Fíli were alone in the street. Many people still moved around the market, but Hanah felt alone.

_To find a place where we belong?_ What had he said to Hemery? Hanah and Hemery belonged together. As long as they had each other, it did not matter where they lived. It did not matter that Hanah made mistakes that forced them to leave their childhood home. It did not matter if people chased them away. What had he said to make her question that? Did he not think they belonged here? She could hardly look at him for fear of what she might say.

"She's a very curious lass," Lord Fíli said.

She ignored the comment. "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Play with her head like that."

His brow furrowed. "It's not play. She should explore her options, explore the world, learn new things."

She tried to find the words to explain their situation to him. "This is her life. Here, now, with our work. It's what she knows, and she's good at it. She's been trainin' to be a leathersmith since she was born."

He shrugged and waved a hand nonchalantly. "She's a child; she has plenty of time to become a master in any field."

"She's mankind. She doesn't have hundreds of years to find out what she's best at."

He shook his head. "It shouldn't be about what she's best at, but what she desires. What she sees at night when she closes her eyes. What her hands does without effort, without being asked. What her passion is."

Hanah just got more confused. Desires and passions?

"The important thing is that whatever she ends up doing is what she wants to do," he articulated.

"What she wants?" Hanah repeated incredulously, as if he had claimed that it was perfectly natural to eat cake for dinner every day. "She _wants_ to honour her father. She wants to perfect what he taught her."

She tried to make him see that their path was the most reasonable, but the statement only made his eyebrows lower into a hard line.

"Aye. Her father," he said. "The curse of every youngling. Tell me, how has her father honoured _her_, or _you_ for that matter?"

Hanah gaped. "What?"

He closed the short distance between them and spoke lower to prevent people from overhearing their conversation. "He left you alone in that house, unprotected, to be prey for the Brage's who see enemies wherever they turn. Letting you come here on your own, fending for yourself."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she breathed, averting her eyes. She looked to where Hemery and Dwalin were putting together his boxes and wrapping his sheathed weapons in cloths. Lord Fíli's voice was very close now.

"I know he didn't make anything in that shop of yours, however forcefully you may claim otherwise. He may have taught you how to make a nice coat, but you're the one who made it great. _You."_

She did not know what to say.

"And _you_ had to make that trip from Blackwater alone with Hemery, while you were hurt, and while you carried—" He stopped himself and took a slow breath.

Hanah froze, wondering what he had been about to say. While she carried what? Did he know she had lost a child after coming to Dale? Had Dwalin told him? Hanah did not have time to reflect over what other humiliating, intimate issues of hers he may be aware of because he was speaking again.

"Don't let a husband who's off nobody knows where, doing Mahal knows what, dictate your behavior and how you spend your time."

Hanah felt as if an ice fist squeeze her chest.

"You can choose to respect your husband, but you don't have to honour him," he added.

Hanah's hands grew cold.

Lord Fíli thought the peltmaster was _her husband_? Of course, she had never given him reason to believe otherwise. She had been under the impression, or feared rather, that everyone thought she was very young, which had led to her lie about the death of her father in the first place. She had thought no one would hire a girl to do a peltmaster's work.

Hanah was indeed within reasonable age to marry, but then who did he think Hemery was? Did he not realize that Hemery could not possibly be her daughter? Perhaps he thought Hemey was her step-daughter, a child from an earlier marriage?

Lord Fíli thought the child she lost had been the peltmaster's, and assumed they were married. It all seemed too strange to Hanah, she would have laughed had she not been so perplexed. She had half a mind to let him continue believing it. If people thought she was married, it would give her more protection. However, when time passed and no husband appeared, the lie would prove equally useless as a peltmaster who was never in his shop.

And it did not sit well with her to lie to Lord Fíli—her employer, and one of the few people who had ever treated her with kindness and respect.

She drew breath to refute his assumption, but when she turned he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10 - An Unexpected Title

Thanks to everyone who follow, and to my reviewers: LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Akiluna, FeeKiliCo, Rhyska Nevar!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 10 - An Unexpected Title

* * *

"Stand up straight," Dwalin commanded.

"I _am_ standing straight," Hemery replied.

"_Straighter._" He grabbed her shoulders and pulled them up until her feet almost left the ground, as if trying to make her taller.

Hemery had finally managed to complete the knife throwing test in front of Dwalin, but if she thought she would now be allowed to wield a real knife, she was sadly mistaken.

"I'm not givin' ye a weapon til ye can control it and yerself. Any weapon ye carry can be used against ye, except fer yer own body."

He had told her to stand in the middle of the yard, and was now criticizing her posture.

"Shoulders back. Find your balance."

Balance? She was just standing on the grass. "What?"

He shoved her shoulder. Not hard, he was standing next to her, barely making an effort, but it took her by surprise. She stumbled and fell on her bottom.

"Ye have no balance. How are ye s'posed to fight if ye can't even stand."

"I wasn't ready!" Hemery protested from her place in the grass.

"Ye should always be ready. No one will give ye heads up."

Hemery stood and brushed off. As soon as she straightened, he pushed her again.

"Hey!" She yelped as she fell.

"Oh—my apologies. Ye weren't ready?" He did not sound sorry at all.

Hemery glared as she stood up. Her eyes were glued to him when she faced him.

Dwalin raised his arm, but this time she dodged it. However, she did not see his foot come out to trip her as she side-stepped which sent her sprawling on the grass again. She grunted from the dull pain in her back side, but clenched her jaw and stood again, glaring at him even more. This did not bother him one bit, his face in his usual grim frown.

He advanced. She ducked the arm he swiped at her, jumped away from the foot that tried to trip her, but could not withstand the pressure from his elbow at her abdomen, and was shoved backwards.

"Feet apart, bend yer knees."

Hemery got back up. Swipe, swipe, trip, swipe, push, and she was down again. As soon as she got back up, it started all over. She did not know how long they were at it, but she sensed that complaining she was tired would fall on deaf ears. Or worse, he would actually stop, and then he would never teach her anything ever again.

In the end, she did not have to say anything. Her body did the talking. Her legs burned as she stood up for what felt like the thousandth time, and promptly fell to her knees before he even touched her. Dwalin put a hand under her chin and turned her face up to him. Tears stained her cheeks, but she was silent except for the wheezing breaths her lungs could hardly draw anymore. Who knew simply falling and standing could be so exhausting?

His brows knitted together. He hummed gruffly and let her chin go. "This is why I don't train men. Ye have the endurance of a corpse."

If Hemery could speak, she would have informed him that was not the only reason. No sane man would want to train with Dwalin. What did that say about her? If she could breathe, she would have pleaded with him not to go back on his word. He had promised her. She could only raise her hand toward him as he turned away, as if trying to stop him.

He spoke over his shoulder.

"Tomorrow—wear gloves. Don't be afraid to stop the fall with yer hands."

Hemery smiled and let herself slump down in the dewy grass.

* * *

Hanah's walk to Erebor was slower than ususal, but her steps determined. She was on her way to deliver three of Lord Fili´s coats, she could not put it off any longer. It had been an awkward last meeting, but it had not been her fault.

He was the one who did not understand what it was like for women to work and live in this world. He did not know any better, having been born into aristocracy. Sure, he sat in some sort of royal council or something, but he did not know what it was like to be poor and work for bread crumbs. She could not explain that to him, though she had tried. And he had the nerve to suggest they _explore their options_.

Hanah's lip curled in derision at the thought. Lord Fíli and his richboy fancies.

However, he had been very generous to her and Hemery throughout their business arrangement, paying more than he ought, and not demanding more than she delivered. Because of him, they had somewhere to go after they left Blackwater. It was not his fault the Brage's were vengeful wolverines.

Then there was that other thing. Hanah could not let Lord Fíli believe she was married to some good for nothing man who had abandoned her and Hemery. Especially not let him believe she would stand by such a man and defend him. It was intolerable.

No one asked Hanah where she was going when she passed the guards on her way into the mountain. Neither did anyone stop her when she went up the stairs or entered the corridor that led to Lord Fíli's study. When she came to the red tapestry she recognized from last time, she halted and knocked on the door.

The day had progressed past regular working hours, so she did not think she would be disturbing him. After a moment, the door opened and revealed Lord Fíli on the other side.

"Mistress Skinner."

She bowed her head slightly. "Lord Fíli. I have three new coats for you." She showed him the large bag she carried on her back.

He nodded and stepped aside for her to enter. The fireplace was the only source of light in the big room, making it gloomier than usual. Lord Fíli cast a tall shadow on the walls as he moved to the desk. Hanah put her bag down on a chair next to the door.

"May I light some candles?" she asked.

He waved his hand in her general direction before he picked up a silver cup and drank from it. Hanah found a long splinter in the firewood and ignited it. She moved slowly, with one hand in front of the flame to not disturb it, and lit some lanterns which were placed around the room. She unfolded the first coat and turned, only to find him observing her. His direct gaze unsettled her and for a moment she could not move.

The firelight left half of his face in shadows and exaggerated the other, making his dwarven features especially prominent, the thick hair, his marked brow and nose, the unusually wide shoulders and powerful arms displayed by the simple shirt with rolled up sleeves. Together with his grave expression, it reminded her how different they were and how inexperienced she was with the social conduct of dwarves.

There had been instances when they had spoken and laughed freely together. Now she could not remember how those moments had come about. She hardly dared speak. Perhaps he had taken offense to her speaking her mind last time they met?

Then she mentally shook herself. She had been hired to do a job, and she would do it, regardless of whether she was comfortable in her employer's company or not.

She unfolded the other coats for him to look at. The first was a bluish purple with silver beading. The second was an earthy, dark brown with turquoise accents. The third was the colour of anthracite with red jasper stone decorations.

He did not touch them or comment at all, merely nodded in approval at each. She took his silence as a good sign. That meant she would not need to change them and could get on with the remaining nine.

"Would you like to try it on?" she asked where she stood holding the grey coat by the shoulders. He put his cup down and stood in front of her. She helped him into it, tugging on it a bit to make it fall evenly. She moved around him, looking at her hands adjusting the coat, never at him.

"Is it supposed to feel like this?" he suddenly asked.

Hanah froze.

"This loose?" he added.

She exhaled. "It's outerwear. You're meant to wear layers underneath, remember?"

"Layers," he muttered. "Right."

Hanah tightened the lacings under the arms to make it a bit smaller. She had put them in especially for this reason. She took a few steps away and knelt down to check that the bottom was in line with the floor, then she came to stand in front of him, checking the fastenings and the belt loops.

"I thought a belt would be best," she said. "Otherwise they'll look like formless, tacky, robes of temple priests. I brought some with me that you can choose from, if you don't prefer your own, of course. Included in the price."

"Is this how it's going to be now?" he asked.

"What?" She feared he had found some flaw in her design. She looked the coat over, trying to see what it could be, but she found nothing.

"We continue to do business, all the while you refuse to look me in the eye?" His voice was rougher than usual. Of course he would think it was rude of her to avoid his gaze when they spoke, and she recognized a challenge in his words.

She looked at him, and almost wished she had not. His jaw was set, his eyes hard, like he was waiting for an explanation or an apology.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, anger boiled up within her. The only reason there was now an issue was because he had felt the need to share his thoughts on education and worldliness. And it made her feel small and ignorant, though she would never admit it even to herself.

This was good, Hanah thought. She needed a firm line to keep to when it came to Lord Fíli, and he had far too easily created a sense of friendliness between them. But they were not friends. She worked for him—nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm lookin' at my work, m'lord," she said, admittedly a bit childish. "It's what I'm here for."

"You have nothing to say?" He seemed surprised now, or was he provoking her?

"If you have something to say, you may. This is your study. Say whatever you like." She shrugged and refocused on her work. She could see his chest rising as he took a deep breath.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Hanah stepped back and crossed her arms in front of her, looking at him with her chin raised. She kept her expression flat and waited.

Lord Fíli threw his arms out, as if not knowing where to begin. "I realize," he said, "how my opinions may have come across. And. . ." He looked at a spot over her shoulder. "I understand your situation, and I have no right to judge you or your family's decisions because, technically. . ." He glanced at her and away again. "It's none of my concern."

Hanah could tell it had been difficult for him to say that, which meant he probably still stood by his opinions, only he was sorry that he had expressed them the way he had. When it was clear he was done, she slid the coat off his shoulders and folded it.

Her anger drained away, but now he had tipped the scale. He had apologized—well, as good of an apology someone like her could expect from a noble. He backed off in respect for her and her family. Now she could not deny him the same courtesy.

When she was ready to leave, she turned toward him.

Lord Fíli had sat down in a chair by the fire, watching the flames, the silver cup once more in his hand.

"I'm not married," she said.

His head turned to her suddenly, as if he had forgotten she was in the room.

"The peltmaster was our father. He died last winter. We never told anyone, because we. . ._ I_ didn't think we could make a livin' on our own."

He stood then and came towards her. "The work speaks for itself. Who cares about who made it?"

Hanah pursed her lips and shook her head. "I was also afraid of what could happen if people knew two girls lived alone out there."

His hands closed into fists at his sides.

"And besides, who would pay two hundred silver pieces for a coat made by bairns?"

"But now you're here, selling just fine."

She nodded and cleared her throat. "But that's not why I'm telling you this. I couldn't. . . I didn't want you to think I would be with a man like that, who would. . . do those things you said."

They were silent a moment.

"I'm sorry about you father," he said. "I lost my father when I was very young."

"How, if you don't mind. . .?"

"In battle against orcs, a long time ago. How did your father die?"

She cringed inwardly. Her father had not died anywhere near as valiantly or honourably as that. Hanah thought of the phrase people around Blackwater had used to describe it. "The rabbit curse."

"Sorry—_the what_?" His eyebrows rose almost comically fast.

"You know, when hunters are out in the winter, they only eat what they catch. After a while they die from eating the same thing for weeks on end."

"Right. I've heard of that." His eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown and he nodded in serious understanding, but the braids of his mustache twitched, his lips were pursed, and she could see his nostrils moving as if his face tensed up. Was he holding back a laugh?

"It's not funny," Hanah protested.

"No," he agreed, shaking his head emphatically. "Of course. Absolutely not. Sounds awful. It's just. . . the way you said it. _The rabbit curse_. It's maybe. . . a_ little_ bit funny?"

It may have been a bad way to explain it. Out of context, she herself found the phrase stirring a strange mix of emotions within her. Sorrow for her father, but also a bubble of laughter at the absurd nickname connected to the stangest of diseases, and then astonishment that she was even capable of laughter in relation to anything about her father, and a sensation of shame for letting out a baffled half-chuckle, half-gasp, in the situation.

"No, it's not," she maintained, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

"No, no. Obviously a horrible business. I completely agree." He sounded as if this had truly been his opinion the whole time, but the sparkle in his eyes had not been there before. "Shall we shake on it?" He reached out his hand.

"Why?" They had not made a business deal during their meeting. Why did he think a handshake was appropriate?

"To confirm our total agreement and to put any old vexations to rest."

Sounded reasonable, and Hanah did not want to cause further tension by refusing, however strange she thought it was that dwarves expected females to shake their hands.

She reached out and took his hand. Like before, his big, warm hand enveloped hers and, like before, they steadied the handshake by taking hold of each others' elbows.

But when she let go, he did not. Instead, he turned her hand over and raised it to his mouth. Before she had time to register what he was doing, his lips brushed her knuckles. Her chest tightened. The sensation of his warm breath and the scratch of his beard on her skin was still there a long moment after he let go.

He did not say anything after that, so she guessed she was excused.

"Right. I'll be. . ." She turned to the door, but remembered her manners and stopped before walking out. "Good evening, m'lord," she said hurriedly, and bowed her head.

"Evening, Miss Hanah."


	11. Chapter 11 - Unexpected Insinuations

Thank you everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: Akiluna, Sarah0406, FeeKilico, Rhyska Nevar, FlyingHampsterOfDoom!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 11 - Unexpected Insinuations

* * *

"Why can't he just come to the shop or the market like everyone else?" Hemery asked. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching Hanah pack six different kinds of belts, twenty leather bracelets, and twelve wrist bands into a bag.

"Because he's a nobleman," Hanah replied. "Noblemen don't visit shops. They have people to do it for them, or they call for the smith to come show them stuff."

"But he's not a man—he's a dwarf."

"Hem!" Hanah looked at her sister sharply.

"What? He is!" Hemery's lip curved in defiance.

"I know that. But you don't go. . . pointin' out things like that." Hanah continued to pack.

"Like what?"

"_Obvious_ things like that. It's rude."

"Is it rude to tell the truth?"

"Sometimes," she sighed.

"How do you know when it's rude?"

"Well. . ." Hanah thought about it. They had never met dwarves or elves or any kind of _other_ at Blackwater, so Father had not talked to Hemery about these things.

"You don't compare people's titles, especially not in front of them, because you never know what might offend them, really. And you never talk about what people can't do, or things they're not good at. You don't say that someone can't be a nobleman because he's a dwarf. You can just call him 'a noble,' then."

"So when can you say 'dwarf'?"

"When you talk about somethin' special about dwarves that is only about dwarves. Like dwarven crafts, or dwarven clothes, or dwarven language."

"And dwarven titles?" Hemery insisted.

"_No_," Hanah shut her eyes in frustration and dropped the full bag on the worktop. "The titles are basically the same. Only when it's somethin' special _about _dwarvish things, not when somethin' is special because it _is_ dwarvish."

"But—"

"We can talk about this later, alright?" Hanah walked to the door to put on her coat. "Try not to talk to people about dwarves while I'm gone."

"I still don't understand why you have to go." Hemery crossed her arms.

Hanah knew Hemery could take care of herself while she was away, and Dwalin was just across the yard if something happened. But she got bored without Hanah there to talk to or sing with. Several times, Hanah had found her practicing throwing knives on a wood beam in the shop, and they had been forced to have several conversations about practicing after work was finished and to stop throwing knives indoors.

She would take Hemery with her, but they had too much to do to leave two hands idle just to accompany her to the mountain, even if it was close to evening.

"Because Lord Fíli's footman who was in here yesterday informed me he is in need of new accessories, which is richman speak meanin' I need to bring our products for him to look at and comment on, while I stand by sayin' _yes, m'lord—no, m'lord—certainly, m'lord_, waitin' for him to buy somethin', which he won't." Hanah laced her boots.

"Then why do you have to go?" Hemery looked at her as if she was mentally deficient.

"Because he'll see somethin' he likes, but ask me to change it anyway until he's completely satisfied."

Hemery groaned from deep down her throat while draping herself over a chair, clearly pretending to die of exhaustion. "Why can't he just buy what we make?"

"Nobles are fussy about what they wear and those sorts of things."

Hemery lit up and nodded in understanding. "You mean _dwarves_, don't you?" she smiled.

"No, I mean_ nobles_," Hanah said patiently. "They like to think they're special, so they spend lots of money on things that will make them look special. That's why Lord Fíli wants somethin' that he chooses himself, but doesn't have to make himself."

Hemery dragged her fingertips down her cheeks, as if trying to pull her own face off. "Sounds like a lot of trouble for nothin'."

"It is. But it's also good money in it for us. We really need to keep this customer."

"Things were much simpler when we lived at home."

Hanah sensed that Hemery was not just talking about work. She came to stand next to her little sister, putting her arm around her shoulders.

"You know why we couldn't stay there, right?"

Hemery nodded.

"And here we have this nice house, and almost as many customers as before. When this order is finished we'll have more money than we'll know what to do with. I know you like the food we've been havin'. We've both gotten fatter." She poked Hemery's side. "I know I have. I can barely close my trousers anymore, my arse has gotten so wide." They laughed.

"You know what," Hanah continued. "While I'm gone, I want you to think of somethin' we can use that money for. Some will have to go to pay rent and things, but not all of it. You can choose somethin' we can use, or just somethin' fun."

"Anythin' I want?" Hemery looked up at her.

"Almost anythin'. Come up with some ideas, and we'll talk about it."

Just as Hanah was about to leave, she turned to Hemery. "You're not unhappy here, are you?"

Hemery shrugged. "It's alright."

Hanah nodded.

"Are you?" Hemery asked.

Hanah thought a moment. "I'm content." Work was the same, though more well paid. The customers more easily dealt with, more particular perhaps, but not petty or cheap. They paid what they owed because they recognized the quality of their work, not trying to do them over at every turn.

"People are friendly. Even the nobles," Hanah concluded. "And, yes—this time I do mean the dwarves."

* * *

On her way through the entrance hall of Erebor, Hanah was intercepted by a dark haired dwarf.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hanah." The dwarf stopped in front of her, smiled and bowed as if she was a lady.

"Good afternoon," she replied, uncertain of what he wanted.

He seemed to pick up on her hesitance. "I am Fíli's brother." He put a hand to his chest. "Kíli—at your service."

She remembered now. He had been at Blackwater that day, and been in Lord Fíli's company the first time she came to Erebor.

"Oh, yes. Of course," she said. "Nice to meet you again."

"Are you perchance heading to the south wing?"

She looked up at the floor she was headed to, doing a quick calculation in her head. She new the entrance was on the south slope of the mountain, and the corridor, where Lord Fíli's study was, bent in that angle as well. That was probably what he meant by the south wing.

"I am," she said.

"Excellent. May I join you?"

The brothers clearly shared a certain teasing humour she had never encountered before. Lord Fíli was inclined to play jokes on her, while Lord Kíli showed a kind of exaggerated chivalry toward her when they both knew he was way above her station. The words seemed sincere enough, though his vocabulary was overly formal to the point where Hanah was convinced it was in jest. But she did not comment.

"You may, m'lord."

He fell into step with her as they ascended the stairs.

"What is your business today?" he asked.

"Belts for Lord Fíli."

He laughed. "Aye, can never have to many of those."

"Do you need somethin' as well? I'm sure I have more than—"

"I'm sure you do." He chuckled. "Ah, Miss Hanah. Merchant to the core, eh? No, I have all that I require at the moment. In fact, I just got a new one." He gripped his belt with his thumbs. She looked at it.

"That's mine," she exclaimed in surprise, before thinking.

"Well, now it's mine since I paid for it, but, yes, you did make it."

"But you never call for us, or come to the market."

"I have more important things to do than shopping. I have it done for me."

If Lord Kíli never saw to such things himself, then why did Lord Fíli?

"I guess Lord Fíli is more vain than you are," she ventured. "Always choosing everythin' himself."

She smiled, hoping he would see the joke. He must have because his face cracked into a wide boyish grin, but his tone was serious.

"Oh, yes. Brother always need to take extra care with his appearance. It can't have been easy living in my shadow all our lives, you know. But we must take pity on the poor ogre," he said in hushed conspiracy, "and not stare at his ugliness. It makes him a bit testy."

Hanah burst out laughing and he smiled triumphantly. They passed the guards by the entrance to the corridor.

"And even if he wasn't as ugly as a troll, if all crafters were as pretty as you, he'd never get anything done for all the wares he'd inspect in his chambers all day." He winked at her as they stopped by the red tapestry. "Good day, Miss Hanah."

"Good day, Lord Kíli."

He left her to enter a door on the opposite side. Hanah stood there a moment contemplating his words. She knew he was teasing her, but the way he said it caused her to suspect a not so gentlemanly meaning behind it. The thought of Lord Fíli doing something ungentlemanly in his chambers made her blush. It was true, he could take all sorts of liberties in the warm, low lit privacy of his quarters. Her stomach fluttered a bit.

_No_, she thought. Those thoughts were not relevant or helpful in this situation. He was her employer, she was there to do a job. That was all he expected of her and all he wanted.

Still, Lord Kíli's comment bothered her for some reason. She was not sure if she should feel offended or not. But then again, she was not his equal—it was not her place to feel offended by anything he said or did.

Hanah knocked on the door to Lord Fíli's study. She did not wait long before it was opened by a young, dwarven woman with auburn hair and grey robes. Well, young by dwarven standards, she still seemed older than Hanah. Hanah was just about to introduce herself when Lord Fíli called from within the room.

"Miss Hanah, come in." He came towards her, took the bag from her shoulder and put it on the chair next to the door.

"Thank you, Sethie. That will be all," he spoke to the woman.

"Aye, sir," she nodded and left the room.

In front of the fire, a table was set with food. Grilled chicken, bread, cheese, carrots, tomatoes, potatoes, even a small bowl with butter gleamed like gold in the firelight.

The woman, Sethie, had probably just served his dinner. Hanah could feel her own stomach growl in reaction to the smell of grilled spices. She and Hemery ate well, but rarely hot.

"Sit down," he said and reached for her coat to help it off her shoulders.

"Alright." She had interrupted his meal. Of course he would want to eat before doing business. She sat in the chair by the door.

"No, no. Come." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the table. Not hard, just insistant. "Join me." He motioned for her to sit down opposite him. He filled a plate with chicken and vegetables, sprinkled some orange spice on top, and set it before her. Hanah's eyes grew wide.

"Oh, no, m'lord. I couldn't. . ."

"Please." Lord Fíli put his hand on her arm to prevent her from leaving the table. "I can't eat if you're not having any. And I'm starving." He smiled.

There was no trace of the hardness from last time in his eyes. Today he was just a generous host. A very insistent, inappropriately generous host.

"Please?" he asked again, looking at her as if her decision would determine the goodwill of the rest of their acquaintence. Maybe it did? Maybe it was rude to refuse food at a dwarf's table?

"Very well," she agreed. "Thank you."

"Try the butter. Fresh from cows fed on cloves and honeyed water."

"Why do they only drink honeyed water?"

"They are only given honeyed water to drink by the farmers. It makes the milk and butter taste better."

"What was wrong with the old milk and butter?" She was not trying to being smart, she was just curious.

He smiled and shrugged. "Nothing. This is just supposed to be a delicacy." He thrust the bowl at her. "Try it."

She took it in her hands. A small knife was stuck in the golden mass.

"I've never had it," she said.

"Really?" Suddenly he reached across the table, took the butterknife and a bread roll, and proceeded to cover it with butter. "It's best on freshly baked bread. None of those stale buscuits you get at the Inns."

He presented her with the roll. There was butter everywhere. Her fingers grasped it and she could feel the butter melting and running down her hand.

She took a bite. It was warm and soft and the best thing she had ever tasted. Salt from the butter and sweet from the bread filled her mouth and nose. It made her remember something she had not known she had forgotten.

Her mother's warm hand on Hanah's head. Fresh bread and milk in her hands, sitting at the table in the cottage at Blackwater.

She chewed and swallowed past a lump in her throat.

"It's good," she said.

Lord Fíli smiled knowingly, as if he knew exactly how she felt then, but of course he could not. He was just satisfied that she agreed with him. She put the bread down and tasted the chicken as he dug into his own food.

"Best poultry east of the Misty Mountains," he claimed.

"Fed on mead and strawberries?" she guessed.

"Corn actually, but that is a brilliant idea." He lit up. "They eat quite a lot so we'll need to plant fields of strawberries as large as the clove pastures. I'll speak with the head of agriculture first thing in the morning."

Hanah held back a smile. "I'm sure you have better things to do than plant strawberry fields."

"Nothing is more important than a good meal." He looked at her plate. "What do you think? The spices really makes the whole difference, does it not? Transported all the way from Eriador."

Must be nice to be able to buy anything you wished just to make your perfectly grilled chicken taste a bit more, Hanah thought dryly, but why was he telling her all this?

"It's good, but ehm. . ."

He looked up when he heard the clatter of her fork being put down. She leaned forward and spoke low.

"M'lord, why are you braggin' about your dinner?"

He did not answer, but looked down into his cup and took a long drink.

_Shit. _He was definitely offended now. But he was acting so strangely! In the future, she would not comment on anything he said or did without specifically being asked.

"Because you don't need to," she tried to explain. "I can see for myself that it _is_ very nice. There's spices and butter and it's served by a beautiful woman. But I'm not some ambassador you need to impress."

He met her eyes then, keeping his face blank.

"I mean, I know you're rich—I've seen your gold. You've got nothin' to prove to me." She laughed awkwardly.

Finally, a smile made it onto his face, but it was careful.

"I have to admit," he began. "I sometimes forget that you're not. . . from here." He filled his cup and then hers from a pitcher. "I must seem strange to you."

Yes. Absolutely alien.

"_No_," she hurriedly said, shaking her head reassuringly. "I'm just. . . Not knowing your customs, I worry that I will offend someone without knowing it. The whole world is strange." She shrugged, picked up her fork and poked at her carrots.

"Truer words have seldom been spoken." He seemed to have decided to take pity on her, and not be offended, because he smiled genuinly now. He raised his cup.

"I'd like to propose a toast." He motioned for her to pick up her own. "To strangers becoming less strange. _To friends_." He clashed their cups together so that she spilled all over the roasted chicken, but he waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckled and emptied his cup in one go. She took a mouthful.

It was not water as she had first thought. It was bitter, but thirst quenching, and left an aftertaste of yeast, sort of like the one you get from burping after eating unbaked dough. Ale or beer of some kind, Hanah thought. It was not her favourite, but it was what was offered, and what Lord Fíli drank, so she would not complain.

"How is Hemery?" he asked.

"She's alright." Hanah wondered what she might be doing at that moment, and was pretty sure it was not work, but considering her own current occupation, she could not very well blame her. "She's throwing knives."

He smirked. "I'm glad she's enjoying herself." He did not say anything else, but he did not have to. Hanah imagined Hemery throwing knives in the kitchen, tearing down the interior. She tried to keep the smile off her own face.

"I'd ask you about your brother, but I saw him myself on my way here, so. . ."

"Really? Then I might ask you instead. How is my dear brother?"

"He looked like he was in good health, and he informed me that he was very happy with a belt he had bought from us."

"That sounds uncommonly civil of him."

She thought it unnecessary to include the indecent comment he had made about the two of them.

"He said he didn't have time to buy things himself, though. How come you are less busy?"

Lord Fíli threw his head back and laughed at that."That's the thing with my brother. You can never tell if he's actually busy or merely seem busy."

"Pretending to work must be harder than actually working."

"It's a skill he's honed over many years," he said and refilled her cup.

She began to enjoy the drink better. The taste was an interesting contrast to the bread and the chicken. She took another moutful.

"So you do work more than him, but still take the time to make sure you have the perfect belt?"

"It's an important part of a dwarf's identity. What he wears and what items he carry says a lot about his character. Even the ugliest dwarf should take pride in his appearance, because it means he takes pride in himself."

Hanah had never thought of it like that. "I've always been told that modesty is better than pride."

His laughter surprised her. "Was it not you, Miss Hanah, who said the first day we met that you sold the finest leatherworks the likes of which my miserable, dwarven eyes had never beheld?"

She drank from her cup before answering. "Can't I be modest and truthful at the same time?"

"I don't know. Can you?" He smiled.

"I'll just let the product speak for itself, then." She left the table to fetch her bag. When she came back, she sat on the chair next to him to better show him the details of her work.

"See," she said, holding a belt between them. He shifted in his seat to face her. In the light of the fire she pointed at different features.

"Quarter inch thick. Five feet long. The decorations are burned all along the outside so you can shorten it however—" She looked up to see him watching, not the belt, but her face with an amused smile.

"Are you payin' attention? I'm tryin' to prove a point here." She knew she was a bit forward, but he had questioned her abilities, and she had to set him straight.

"By all means, go ahead. Prove it."

"You can shorten it however much you like. It's pierced all the way so you don't have to use it as a waist belt. It has many areas of application. There are also steel rings attached so you can fasten tools, bags, knives or whatever and carry with you without pockets or separate holsters."

She put the belt in his hands. "Now tell me, is this not the very manifestation of practicality and decor?"

She sat back and took another drink, confident she had won the argument. He pursed his lips in thought, turning the belt over in his hands.

"It's nice."

She stared at him.

"Alright, it's _very_ nice. But I've seen better."

Hanah put her cup down with a more force than intended. "Show me."

"Now?"

"Yes. Show me a product that's better, and I'll make one that's even better than the one you think is better than mine." She waved a hand in front of her to erase her rambling. "I will improve your so called superior product," she amended. "Show me right now."

He slammed his own cup down. "Who could resist such an offer?" He stood up and bowed. "Follow me and I will display the arsenal, my lady."

Grabbing their cups and the pitcher off the table, he lead the way, not to the corridor outside, but through another door into what looked a dining room with a long table and chairs all around, then through a second door to a room filled with beautifully carved wardrobes. Down one end of the room there was a door ajar, and down the other stood a door wide open. Through it Hanah could see a large, flat, ascended square in the middle of the room, covered with furs and blankets. She quickly turned her eyes away, cheeks burning.

That had to be Lord Fíli's bed chamber.


	12. Chapter 12 - An Unexpected Encounter

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: InezSophia, jennlit, blaahblaahblaah, Skywolf42, Cosetta P, feeKilico!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 12 - Unexpected Bathroom Encounter

* * *

That room had to be Lord Fíli's bed chamber.

His most private space, where he slept, completely relaxed, completely unguarded, completely naked—completely inappropriate!

Hanah turned her gaze to the expansive wardrobes in front of her. Here were all his clothes. He had probably been naked in this very room. _Stop it. _She wanted to push her fingers into her eyes.

She found herself in a vortex of bad thoughts, like the few times she had visited the temple in Blackwater and everything was so quiet and serious, and all she had been able to think was _do not scream, do not scream, do not scream_, without having the least bit of reason for doing so. Except now she kind of had reason. She was alone with Lord Fíli in his chambers. _Damn him_ for being so familiar with her. And _damn Lord Kíli_ for joking with her earlier and putting the image in her head.

An image that was vivid enough without also seeing him in front of her, his imposing frame, his alert eyes, and that heady, warm smell of his skin she had come to know from their previous meetings.

Hanah bit the inside of her cheek and pressed her fingernails into her closed fist. She forced herself to focus on what he was doing.

He lay out a leather and metal monstrosity on a sideboard. It seemed to be made of metal hinges with only the base made of leather. She picked up one end. It moved like a flat centipede. Heavy, but seemingly indestructable. Along the bottom hung holsters for different sized daggers. The metal was decorated with runes and that tell-tale dwarven pattern of lines and angles.

Lord Fíli poured more drink as she examined the belt.

"It's nice," she said, earning a laugh. "And technically it's more metal than leather—"

"Does that mean you forfeit?"

"_However_," she continued, ignoring his jibe. "Considerin' its purpose, I think it can be done better." She held his gaze challenging and took a drink.

"And what's its purpose?" he challenged in return.

"Well, I haven't been here long, but I'm under the impression that dwarves' fightin' skills are specialized in swords, axes, hammers, big weapons. So the only time the soldier would have need of this—because it _is_ a soldier's belt, not a practical all around belt—would be if he didn't have access to his first-hand weapon. The purpose is close fightin' or if he's been disarmed. In any case, it would be good if the other thought you were unarmed."

"You mean feigning weakness in order to lower the opponent's guard?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

Perhaps such an idea was below him. Perhaps his dwarven pride would not allow him to be viewed as defenseless, even if it was just an act.

"It was a common trick among the children at Blackwater," she explained.

"And how would one _appear_ unarmed? Can you make weapons invisible?"

Hanah was already brimming with ideas for new designs. "Pretty sure the peltmaster can figure something out," she said.

He smirked. "I must say I'm intrigued. I tell you what—if you'll make it, I'll buy it."

"I do have a lot on my plate right now, as you know, so it may be a few weeks."

He nodded.

"But you have a deal," she finished.

Lord Fíli weighed the pitcher in his hand. "This calls for a toast, but we have nothing to toast with." He held up a hand toward her. "I'll return shortly. Wait here."

He briskly strode out the way they came, his footsteps faded until she heard a door close.

Hanah looked around as she waited. Her eyes fell on the bedroom door. She took a few steps closer.

There was a low fire casting a soft light on the room. The floor was also covered by furs, like moss on a forest floor.

Did he walk barefoot here? What did he think about when he closed himself in, when he lay down and let the furs keep him warm? Perhaps someone else kept him warm? A rich, handsome lord could not have much trouble finding a bed companion. Perhaps he was married? She had no idea. There was nothing to suggest a woman's presence in his quarters, but perhaps she had her own. Perhaps he did not sleep here at all. Perhaps he shared _her_ bed every night.

Hanah turned away from the bedroom which seemed cold and empty now. She moved to the other door and carefully pushed it open.

It was a wetroom. Gleaming, polished marble floor. Two beautiful, wooden bathtubs. Ceramic basins, linen towels, bottles and bars of soap. It smelled of bergamott. A huge difference to her small tub Hanah used at home in the kitchen, standing, while pouring water over herself. She smiled at the thought. Lord Fíli would not be able to fit one foot in her tub. This room was a sign of true wealth.

"What are you doing?"

The voice startled her. Hanah looked up to see an open door on the opposite end of the room, where a dwarven woman stood watching her. All the rooms seemed connected in a never ending chain. She wore a dark blue dress with a matching robe and silver details. Exquisite beads in her dark hair which was streaked with grey. She had high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes framed by crows feet, and a stature that demanded attention. To say she was beautiful would not do her justice. She was breathtaking.

Was this his wife? Surely not. She looked a lot older than Lord Fíli, but Hanah was no judge when it came to dwarves' age.

Hanah froze. What _was_ she doing? Eyeing the lord's gilded brushes? Indulging her curiosity in a life she would never experience herself? Both would be correct, none could she divulge to this important dwarf lady. She was doing something she should not, that was for sure.

"I'm. . .er," Hanah faltered. "I'm waitin'."

"Waiting for what? The mountain to grow?" Her husky voice was inquisitive rather than scathing, but that did not mean she was any less intimidating.

"Lord Fíli. He said he would be back soon."

The lady regarded her a moment. "And who are you to be left by yourself to wait in _Lord Fíli's_ quarters?"

"My name's Hanah Skinner, m'lady." Hanah bowed her head. "I'm a leathersmith. I have business with Lord Fíli."

"What business do you conduct in his bathroom at this hour?"

"He was showing me his knife belt." Hanah moved back into the room with the wardrobes to show the belt displayed on the bench. "I'm goin' to make him a new one."

The lady just looked at her until Hanah could not take anymore of that sharp gaze.

"The door was open, I was curious," she confessed hurriedly.

She seemed satisfied with the honest answer, and walked past her into the wardrobe room. The lady closed the door to the bedroom before turning back to Hanah.

"You are a leathersmith, you say. Do you have anything to sell?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"Do you have a shop or a market stall?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"Then _Lord Fíli _will visit you there in the future," she stated. Not harshly, just so matter-of-factly that Hanah did not know what to say.

"I, er. . ." Hanah began. "I mean no disrespect, m'lady, but. . . who are—?"

Footsteps were heard in the room behind Hanah, and before she could finish the sentence, Lord Fíli appeared in the door. He stopped short when he noticed the dwarven woman.

"_Mother,_" he exclaimed. "This is a. . . surprise."

The lady did not answer, just looked at him exactly like she had paralyzed Hanah a moment ago, as if waiting for something.

"I see you've met Miss Hanah."

"Yes. She was so good as to inform me of your. . . _business arrangement_." Her words were innocent, but the tone was critical. Hanah did not understand why, but she felt that the dwarven lady disapproved strongly.

"I will go," Hanah said, bowed her head and turned.

"There is no need—" Lord Fíli began, but his mother interrupted.

"Yes, that would be best."

Lord Fíli tried again. "Really, you don't have to." He shook his head as if trying to convince Hanah that she should not heed the lady's advice, but his mother locked eyes with him.

"It's late. Let the poor girl go home. There is no business so urgent that it cannot wait 'til morning."

Lord Fíli turned to Hanah and smiled politely, the sparkle that had been in his eyes most of the evening now muted. "Of course. Where are my manners? Thank you, Miss Hanah, for your time."

Hanah bowed her head. "Thank you. Good evening, m'lord—m'lady."

She left, quickly passing the room with the big table. On it sat a bottle which had not been there before.

She was almost at the great doors when she heard her name being called. She turned to see Lord Fíli approach her, carrying the bag which she had forgotten in her hurry to leave.

"Thank you. I'm sorry," she apologized as she heaved the bag onto her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it."

Both continued out through the anteroom and into the dusk, neither spoke for a moment. Hanah wondered if his mother had told him she had been snooping around his chambers in his absence.

"Please forgive me, m'lord," she said. "I should not have been lookin' around. It was inappropriate. I hope I didn't offend your mother too badly."

"No, no." He waved a hand. "She said a lot of things at your departure, but nothing about that, I assure you."

_Oh, no_. In what other ways could Hanah possibly have offended her?

"What did she say?" Hanah asked, worried now.

"My mother is under the impression a trap is being set."

Hanah's heart fell. Parents held great sway over their children, always. If Hanah had done the lady wrong, she had in effect done the lord wrong, and she had unwittingly jeopardized her work again.

Would this nightmare never end? Was Hanah doomed to dig her own grave and fall face first into it?

"Does she think I'm a spy as well?" Hanah tried to joke, but was sure her smile remained a grimace and she choked on her laugh.

He chuckled. "Not in the sense you're thinking, but just as dangerous."

"And what do you think?" She waited, tensely. Was this it? Would he cut her off like a diseased limb?

"I'll tell you what I told her—which isn't much because I could barely get a word in—I assured her that nobody would lay a hand anything which is not freely given." He seemed particularly pleased with himself at that.

She stared at him, baffled that he would even joke about something like that. He laughed when he saw her disapproval.

"So tell me, what secrets have you been divulging to the axis of evil?" he asked. "What valuable information have you gathered in my chambers while measuring my belly?" His eyes sparkled.

Hanah pursed her lips. He was teasing her.

"I've learned that lords and ladies rarely know the difference between reality and fancy. But then again, that's hardly news, is it? Nobody would reward me for that."

Lord Fíli laughed heartily now. "True. You're a very bad spy."

"Good thing that's not actually my occupation."

Hanah was surprised how quickly she had relaxed. It was strange how her stomach warmed when he laughed, but perhaps it was because of the drink. Perhaps her nerves were playing tricks on her.

"Well, dear Miss Hanah, I bid you goodnight," Lord Fíli said as they stopped on the road to Dale.

The way was lit by sparse lamp posts, though the sky was shaded in perpetual, purple dusk these cool summer nights, the sun never disappearing far below the horizon between evening and morning.

Hanah and Lord Fíli turned to shake hands. She barely thought about it now, she just did what he did.

"Thank you again for your company and most entertaining dinner conversation," he said.

"Thank you for inviting me to share your table." Hanah was suddenly overwhelmed by gratitude for the good will he had shown her. He had given her and Hemery work. He spoke to her with respect, like an equal, expecting her to answer like an equal, even though she was painfully aware they were not.

When he brought her hand to his lips, like had done last time, her eyes stung. Why did he have to treat her that way? It was almost cruel how he invited her into his home, gave her a glimpse of his life, knowing it was more distant to her than the moon. She could never share the experience like a true equal. She was not even his kin, his people. The knowledge made her cherish this tentative friendship even more, and at the same time mourn its impossibility.

As soon as his warm mouth left her skin, she held fast to his hand and brought it to her own lips. A quick brush against coarse skin, dry like a riverbed, knuckles bruised from sword training. Half a second, then she let go, murmured another "thank you," and walked away as fast as she could without looking back.


	13. Chapter 13 - An Unexpected Offer

Thanks to everyone who adds, and my reviewers: Rhyska nevar, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, Anne79, feeKilico, InezSophia, Akiluna, jennlit, Skywolf42!

Special thanks to my lovely beta Distorted Lullabies!

You are all wonderful, so I want to share the love with an extra chapter this Sunday evening.

* * *

Chapter 13 - An Unexpected Offer

* * *

Sleep came quickly and so did dawn. In the clear light of a new day, realizations came crashing down on Hanah, brutally honest and sharp like masonry on her head which felt heavier this morning for some reason.

She had kissed Lord Fíli's hand, like a love sick puppy begging for scraps at his table.

But she did not mean it like that. She had just wanted to show somehow the well of emotions she had felt at that moment. Gratitude, respect, humility. . . and tenderness, the kinship she knew was impossible, but felt anyway.

How come when _he_ did it, it was a respectful farewell, albeit an intimate one, but when _she_ did it, it felt like a transgression—a humiliating, irrevocable boundary-breaker?

When Hanah washed that morning, she scrubbed her skin raw as if it could erase the mortification she felt at the memory. She did not remember what his face had looked like when she left him the night before. She had been in too much of a hurry to find out.

Tresses of hair escaped her hair knot and clung to her cheeks as she washed her face. From outside she could hear the clunk of metal on wood. Hemery was practicing again. Hanah half-expected, half-feared, she would ask for some kind of weapon when the order was finished. She knew what would happen; she would argue that it was neither useful nor fun, and Hemery would argue that it was.

Suddenly her little sister was calling her from outside. Hanah hurried to the door, almost running into Hemery on the other side. With a towel still in her hand, she looked at Hemery's smiling face coming toward her.

"Hanah, I'm gonna learn to read. Lord Fíli said I could come and learn with others in the mountain. _In a real school_."

Hanah looked up then, indeed noticing Lord Fíli and Lord Kíli in the yard. Her stomach dropped. Hemery continued.

"I'm gonna look at all the letters and all the runes and know everythin' there is to know about everythin'."

Hanah's first reaction was to politely decline, of course, but the way Hemery took her hands and shook them up and down with emphasis when she spoke, and the way she said _real school_, as if it was a mythical place, made it very difficult for Hanah to refuse.

"I made the inquiries myself," said Lord Fíli. "There's room in one of schoolmaster Ori's classes. It's in the first half of the day, so there's still time for work. And to train," he added to Hemery.

"There's always time for sharpening those knife skills, isn't there?" Lord Kíli smiled with Hemery's black makeshift blade in his hand.

Hanah thought Hemery was already spending too much time on that piece of metal crap. And she was not really sure what she and Dwalin were up to, but when Hemery came in at night she was almost too tired to eat, leaving Hanah to make supper and clean up.

"I don't know," Hanah said. "This is not a good time. We really have a lot to do."

"But you're the one who's busy," Hemery argued.

"That's why I need you to do all the other things," Hanah replied low.

"I can do that in my sleep." Hemery's voice began to hold long tell-tale notes, suspiciously close to whining.

"_Hem_," Hanah snapped. Not loudly, but enough for Hemery to understand.

Hemery leaned in close so the visitors could not hear.

"I want this. For _us_."

Hanah closed her eyes and sighed. It could not be something that just cost money, it had to cost time as well. Naturally. Frankly, she did not see the fascination. So what if she learned to read, what then? Reading did not do anything. Reading did not pay. She would probably get bored within a week and stop going on her own.

Hanah felt a drop of water run from her hair down her cheek. She wiped it away.

"Then you'd better bring somethin' to eat on your way."

Hanah turned and went inside. From the kitchen cupboard she took some bread and cheese. She heard the front door open and close, and looked over her shoulder. Lord Fíli had followed her.

She thought it was unfair of him to ambush her like that, to get Hemery all excited and forcing her to say yes.

The metal clunk noise started up again outside. Hemery probably showed Lord Kíli her aim, like she had done with Hanah more times than she could count.

"I hoped you wished to learn as well," said Lord Fíli.

With her back to him, Hanah wrapped up the food for her sister. She wondered how she could explain her thoughts to him, when she remembered something her father had told her a long time ago.

"I once heard about the city of Minas Tirith. They said it's so big that is built on top of itself like a staircase. And as proof of how elegant and sophisticated the city is, they have learned men, paid by the crown, who sit around a big table discussin' whether the stars move around the earth or if the earth move around the stars. That's their job." Finally, Hanah met his gaze. He was standing by the door, watching her silently.

Hanah continued. "I can't even imagine what the purpose of that is. It seems like such a waste. They could be doin' somethin' useful. People who pay tax to the crown give them their salary, and they get nothin' in return."

"I'm not asking you to solve the mysteries of the stars." He smiled now.

"Then why do you want me to read? I know everythin' I need to pay my way."

"It's not a matter of survival. It makes your life easier. You can do so much with it. Correspond with people over long distances, read books about other times, other places. How to build things, how to grow things. It makes life better."

"But our lives are fine." Hanah raised her voice in frustration before she managed to stop herself. It would not do to shout at a Lord. She took a deep breath and leaned on the back of a chair.

"I'm not like you," she said. "I don't need to do what you do all the time."

"What do you mean 'like me'?" he asked.

"Impress people with what you have, what you know. How much gold you have. Your gilded basins and giant bath tubs." That was rude, but she needed him to understand. "Why do you push us to change? To do more, to learn more, to be somethin' else?"

Hanah had been so happy living in Dale after their disastrous escape from Blackwater, so relieved that everything worked out, but now she felt a lump in her throat. A sadness she had no right to feel, no reason to feel, had it not been for the dwarf in front of her.

She drew a quivering breath. "If we're not good enough. . . then you should just leave." She turned away, arms folded.

There was silence. Had she finally succeeded in offending him? She glanced at him, but averted her eyes just as quickly. His eyebrows had grown into a hard line as they had that day in the market when he spoke of her father.

"Is that what you think? That I would have you change?" he asked in a deceivingly low voice. She did not dare answer. In a few steps he closed the distance between them in the small kitchen. His hands gripped her shoulders in his giant hands, forcing her to look at him. Hanah recoiled, but he held her fast.

"That's not what I want. Not at all. I think you're too good for this life."

She stared in surprise. Not fearful as she had been a moment ago, but genuinly dumbfounded.

"You have the right to know everything so you can decide for yourself how to live your life. You're too intelligent, both of you, to allow yourself limitations."

Nobody had ever looked at Hanah with that intensity before without anger in their voice. Lord Fíli _looked _angry, but she could tell he was not. It confused her how she was afraid when he looked at her like that. Her stomach was in her throat, but she did not want him to stop. She did not want him to go. The warmth of his hands seeped through her shirt. She wanted him to keep touching her, to keep talking.

She looked back into his terrifyingly focused eyes. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before, like she deserved more, like she deserved those things she thought about when she lay down to sleep.

Lord Fíli filled her whole vision. Was he getting closer?

No one spoke to her like they cared about her life, her fate. No one, but Lord Fíli.

He must have read her mind. He must have seen the thoughts displayed on her face because in the next moment his mouth was on hers. Perhaps thoughts were what lords were taught to read in those classes? This was the last discernable thought in Hanah's mind. After that it was all warmth, his lips radiating heat onto her face, making her feel a flush up her neck and over her cheeks, while a chair dug into her back.

His mouth was a solid pressure on hers, soft and hard at the same time. When he pulled away she focused on the lower half of his face, scared that his intense gaze would remain, and also scared that it would not.

He only moved back an inch or two, and instinctively Hanah followed, not enough to close the gap, but enough for him to act on the invitation. He kissed her again. Her hands came up to grip the front of his shirt, while his arms enveloped her and pressed her closer.

Oh, how she wanted this. She had not dared allow herself even the fantasy of Lord Fíli, and suddenly this was happening. This was real and so alien to everything she had ever experienced before. She had felt a spark of _something _with Graham. Some physical reaction, a tingle or a buzz, Hanah had figured was an automatic reflex built into men to help reproduction. But it had always been conjured by physical intimacy, never the other way around.

This was new and scary, and she did not know what to do with it. She just knew she wanted more. Hanah's brain was all but convinced this was a frozen moment in time where she could bask in the heat of Lord Fíli without consequences, but alas. . .

"Hanah," Hemery called from outside.

They broke away just as Hemery came in. Lord Fíli had his back to the door and Hanah brushed past him to join her sister. She did not want to explain to Hemery what she was doing in there.

"Are you coming too?" Hemery asked.

"No, but you go." Hanah said, handing Hemery the wrapped food. They moved outside. The breeze was cool against Hanah's flushed skin. She feared the skin on her neck was red like a boiled crayfish.

"Miss Hanah. Always a pleasure." Lord Kíli bowed his head to her before starting down the road with Hemery beside him.

Lord Fíli come to stand next to her.

"You will not go?" he asked.

"I can't," she said, glancing at him. "I don't have the time."

He nodded, thinking. "No worries. You will," he said, picked up her hand and kissed it before walking away.

* * *

"What's that?" Hanah asked Hemery when she came in with a parcel in her hands the next morning.

"Some farmer dropped it off." Hemery put it down and began to unwrap it. Inside was a round, wooden box. Hemery lifted the lid and revealed its golden yellow content.

"Butter," Hanah gasped. "Master Dwalin must have ordered it."

"No. Farmer said it was to be delivered to Miss Hanah Skinner." Hemery put a finger into the stuff. It was hard due to the morning chill, but she catched some on her fingernail to taste.

"Hem," Hanah scolded. "Your hands are dirty."

Hemery had been practicing again this morning. That was probably why Hanah had not even noticed someone had come into the yard before they left again, because Hemery would have intercepted them.

"Salt." Hemery smacked her tongue. "And grease." She did not seem impressed.

"Wait til you try it on warm bread," Hanah said reverently. "But where did it come from?"

Hanah picked up the box to look at it, as if its mysteries would be shown on the surface.

"There's a note," said Hemery. A piece of paper had been hidden in the wrapping cloth. Something was written on it, two rows of script.

"Any ideas, Miss Reading?" Hanah asked, smiling.

"It doesn't work like that. I've only been to class once." Hemery was obviously disappointed by this fact, judging by the dark look which appeared on her face. But she looked at the note a long moment. "Is this a joke?" She turned to Hanah with her curved upper lip.

"Why? What does it say?" Hanah was both curious and a little worried now.

"I don't know what it says, and neither do you, that's my point. Why would anyone write us anythin'?" Hemery shrugged.

Why indeed. Hanah thought about this. If it was a joke, it was not funny. At least not to her. But then again, in Hanah's experience that was rarely how it worked. It could just as easily be a joke for someone else. Hanah pursed her lips. A joke for someone who knew she could not read, who knew she liked butter and could afford it, someone stubborn who wanted to prove a point.

"It's from Lord Fíli," she stated.

Hemery looked at her. "How do you know?"

"I just know. And we can't accept it."

"Why not?"

"He has already done more than enough. We can't keep takin' things for free. Especially not things like butter. It's expensive and not somethin' we need. If we take what he gives us, we will need to pay him back. I don't want to owe him anythin', because I don't know what he will want in return."

"But isn't that tradin'? Givin' things and givin' back?" Hemery asked.

"Yes, but it's different. When you trade, there's a deal made between two people. Both know what is bargained for and they agree on the price. Then it's over with, nobody owin' anyone anythin' after the deal is done."

Hanah closed the lid and wrapped the box up in the cloth, note and all.

Hemery sighed. "I'm gonna have to give it back, aren't I?"

"You're goin' to Erebor anyway."

Hemery sighed again, if possible even more deeply.

"You know where it is. Tell the guards that Miss Hanah Skinner wants to return somethin' to Lord Fíli."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I don't have time. And you _do_, remember?" And she did not want to get into another argument with Lord Fíli which would surely happen if she went herself.

Hemery was not happy about it, but she understood and so she went. Hanah sat alone in their market stall in Dale until noon when Hemery joined her. She still had the parcel.

"What happened?"

"He wasn't there, and the guards said it was not their job to take deliveries."

"Did you try again after class?"

"Yes, and he wasn't there. I had to hold on to the box all mornin' and everyone kept askin' what it was and were teasin' me for not showin' as if I thought it was a treasure or somethin' and _please_ don't make me go to Lord Fíli again." Her voice grew increasingly agitated.

Hanah put her arm around Hemery's shoulders.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry it didn't work. I guess we'll have to keep it. It will go bad if we don't eat it soon."

That night they had freshly baked bread with butter and tea until they thought their bellies would burst. If Hanah liked the butter gift better at that moment, with salt on her lips and a smiling sister with her at the table, she would never admit it.

* * *

The next morning was a near copy of the one before. As Hemery was outside practicing someone came to deliver a parcel. When they unfolded the cloth on the table, they revealed a small see-through glass bottle with something that resembled water. There was a label on it, but it did not make the girls any wiser.

Hemery unscrewed the cork and smelled it. She recoiled in surprise, like a cat smelling sour milk, but quickly returned it to her nose. Now sniffing more tentatively, she seemed to enjoy it. She passed it to Hanah who did the same.

Memory of standing in a warm room in the mountain, taking in fresh water smells with a belly contentedly full of food and drink, filled Hanah's mind. It was the same scent in the bottle as there had been in Lord Fíli's bathroom.

Hanah tipped the bottle and put a drop on her finger. It was oil, bath oil. Too bad she did not have a bathtub. She pursed her lips. Why did Lord Fíli send this? They could not use it. Did not know how. If she wanted something like this she would have bought it herself, and if she _could_ not then maybe she _should_ not. And he definitely should not show her up like this by giving it to her for free. Who needs bath oil anyway? She would never understand him. It must be him. Who else could it be?

Having not spoken a word since Hemery came in with the parcel, Hanah looked at her sister.

"No way," Hemery crossed her arms. "I already tried. I'm not goin'." She emphatically shook her head long after she was done talking.

Hanah folded the parcel and put it in the chest of soaps, towels and other cleaning items in the kitchen, planning never to use it, but to return it when opportunity arose.

* * *

The next morning was slightly different. Instead of some merchant's delivery boy or farm hand, a wagon with two men stopped outside their house. The clamor of the cart and horses drew Hanah from the kitchen to join her sister who was already standing in the yard watching the visitors. Something the size of their kitchen table was in the back covered by a cloth.

"Skinner?" one of the men asked.

"Yeah."

"This is the place," the man told his partner before jumping out and uncovering their cargo. They unloaded it and were about to carry it inside, but Hanah did not move out of the way.

"Is that a bathtub?" she asked, incredulous.

It was oval in dark reddish brown wood, intricately carved with a forest scenery on the side, with wines, trees and waterfalls.

"Aye, Miss," he confirmed, albeit a little annoyed to be hindered in his work.

"I didn't order one."

"Well, someone did. And we don't get paid if we don't deliver."

"But. . ." Hanah looked into the kitchen behind her. "There's no room for it." Which was true. With the table, the stove, and the chest, there was just enough room to move around in there.

"Then it will make a fancy rain barrel," he said, and the men deposited it underneath the kitchen window.

Hanah gaped. The smooth, sanded surface of the dark wood looked extraordinarily out of place beneath the peeling shutters and dusty windows.

"Have a good day, Miss." The men stepped back into the wagon.

Hanah looked up then. She noticed Dwalin who happened to be sitting on his stoop smoking his pipe, idly observing this morning's spectacle, frowning deeper than usual. He would be no help in this trivial matter, though he would put it in much less polite terms, and she had no way to transport the tub to Erebor should she decide to return it to Lord Fíli in person. Because, though she had not been absolutely certain before, Hanah knew no other who would spend money on strangers like this—it had to be Lord Fíli.

Hanah realized she would never get rid of the tub if she let the carpenters leave without it.

"_Wait_," she exclaimed. "What if you buy it back? Reduced price, of course."

The men shared a glance. "'Fraid not, Miss."

"_Very_ reduced price," she offered pointedly.

"Miss, not even for a copper. It's custom made, virtually unsellable." He motioned to the tub. "If you want it gone, break it up for firewood. But we're not takin' it. Good day, Miss."

When they had turned their cart around and headed down the road, Hanah looked at Dwalin.

"Do you need a bathtub, Master Dwalin?"

He said nothing, knocked his pipe on the doorframe to empty it, and went back inside his forge.


	14. Chapter 14 - Unexpected Tea

Thanks to everyone who adds, and my reviewers: InezSophia, Akiluna, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, marulk, Rhyska Nevar, lynxeyed528, blaahblaahblaah, feeKilico!

Special thanks to my lovely beta Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 14 - Unexpected Tea

* * *

Hanah was busy counting beads on her needle when there was a knock on the door to the shop. Hemery was attending class in Erebor, so she did not receive any warning before the visitor approached as she usually did.

"We're open," she called out, staying in her seat, not wanting to disturb the beads.

"Is this how you greet your most important customer?"

Hanah's head jerked up in surprise at the sound of Lord Fíli's voice. She forced her breath to calm, though her heart raced.

"I did not expect you so early in the day, m'lord. As you can see, I'm busy with your most important order."

He chuckled and began walking around the shop, browsing. "Don't let me bother you."

As if she would be able to work with him in the room, distracting her. Hanah put her needle down. "Four of them are already finished," she said, rising to present him with four bundles wrapped in cloth. She unrolled them for his scrutiny.

One of the coats was dark red, like oxe blood, with white bone beads and plates in different shapes and sizes, covering the top half of the coat like a game board. The second was a deep purple with milky white stone decorations. The third was blue grey decorated with tiger eye stones. The fourth was reddish-brown with copper beads.

She tried to ignore the memory of their interrupted kiss. He seemed as carefree as ever, and so would she. If he pretended as if nothing happened, she would not be the one to bring up the issue.

Hanah knew males had. . . urges. Growing up she had heard stories from older women in Blackwater depicting them as animals, like creatures possessed by demons when the base lust took hold of them. She had seen a glimpse of it with Graham, how he seemed to fade out of existence when they coupled, barely hearkening to anything besides his own drive. She had also heard that men of higher station were prone to take advantage of female servants or lesser ladies in their surroundings in order to fulfill their needs.

However, she did not feel this description applied to Lord Fíli. His kiss had been an impulse, an urge—yes, but not demanding in any way, and he had not made any kind of inappropriate proposition toward her. She still felt safe in his presence. Still felt warm and tingling standing next to him. She could smell leather and mineral oil from his clothes, traces of horse, and the bergamot she now knew. He must have bathed this morning.

He glanced at her then, before returning his focus to the coats.

"You work too hard," he commented, almost absently, as he ran his hands over the coats.

Yes, warm, tingling, and frustrated. That summed up what he made her feel.

"There is no such thing," Hanah informed him and changed the subject. "Would you like me to change anythin'?"

"No, I'll take them as they are."

She began to wrap the coats up so he could take them with him.

"You need to rest once in a while," he said. "Otherwise you won't have energy for when you really need it."

Hanah sighed. Easy words. She sat back down with her needle to resume her work.

"And if I need energy all the time, what then?" she challenged.

He laughed. Her heart leaped from hearing the throaty sound so close.

"Are you a siren?" he smirked and tilted his head at her in question. "Are you some unearthly creature living without food or rest? You _do _sleep on occasion?"

Hanah decided she had enough of his irrational teasing for the moment. "M'lord would not be interested in buyin' a brand new bathtub?" She looked him straight in the eye. "You bein' so easy with your pocket-book and all. I have one just outside the kitchen, just sittin' there, gatherin' dust. Can't keep it myself, bit too fancy really. Can't fit it into the house." She explained in feigned regret.

Lord Fíli took a step back, the smirk gone.

"Well, technically it's not really mine," she continued. "Someone dropped it off a few days ago, but I don't know who's it is. Maybe I shouldn't sell it. I'll just leave it out there and wait for someone to come claim it." She shrugged.

He nodded thoughtfully, stroking his mustache.

"Aye, you could do that," he said. "Or you could just accept it."

"How can I accept somethin' I don't know the price for?"

"What makes you think there's a price involved?" He frowned and put his hands on his hips.

"There's always a price." Hanah bit off the thread which she had just fastened.

Lord Fíli groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Mahal, woman," he said, exasperated. "Have you not heard a word I've said to you? You should embrace what life offers you. Enjoy it while you can and don't ask why, because you don't know how long you'll be allowed to keep it. Why are you so determined to refuse yourself even the smallest bit of happiness in life?"

He turned away and drew a hand over his face. She could see his shoulders move from a deep breath. She felt her eyes sting, but blinked it away.

How could she do as he asked? How could she make him understand?

Hanah walked up to him where he stood with his back to her. She put a hand on his arm. He stiffened under her touch, so she pulled back, but did not step away.

"I hear you. I do," she said softly. Carefully.

He angled his head toward her, but did not turn.

"But. . . you must see what it is like for me." She searched for the words. "You're too good to us."

"Hanah," he ground out in protest, shaking his head.

"No, let me finish. You can't expect me to open my arms to a never-endin' stream of gifts and favours, because if I keep my arms open, I'll not be able to hold on to what I have. When you gave me all that gold, I thought my life couldn't be better but. . . you weren't the only one who paid with that gold. I had to pay too."

He bent his head so she could not see his expression.

"And I know it's not your fault. I don't blame you for. . . what happened, but I will never again accept somethin' freely that seems too good to be true. My life doesn't include butter or bath oil, and I'm fine with that. Why aren't you?"

"I don't know," Lord Fíli sighed. "Maybe because you don't deserve what you've been through and I worry for you. Out here," he looked around. "In the open. No stone walls to protect you. I want to give you what comforts I can until. . ."

"What?"

"Until such time when I can be assured you are safe."

She could not help but smile at his ironically naïve wish.

"No one can be truly safe," she said. "I could choke on a carrot tomorr—"

She was interrupted by a mouth on hers, effectively silencing her.

The solid impact was familiar, but she was still surprised by the sensation. Her stomach fluttered as if she had not eaten in days. She knew she was supposed to close her eyes. That was what people usually did, but she did not want to. She wanted to look at him, his own eyes shut, indulging in this carefree moment. Hanah understood, and though she was bothered by the coat she had abandoned unfinished on the worktop, she chose to ignore it—just for a moment. She would work into the night to make up for the lost time, she promised herself, but right now she let it be.

She watched him and felt his mouth, his breath, his scent. It was like filling her nose with the scent of dawn, watching the mist fade at sunrise, to know that this exact moment would never repeat itself and it would be over all too quickly.

As their lips moved softly against each other, she placed her free hand on his cheek, so that she could feel him move under her fingers. She made her mouth soft and pliant as she kissed him back, to let him know she wanted this to continue.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, opened his mouth and nipped at her lips. Remembering old kisses, what she used to like, Hanah carefully let her tongue touch his bottom lip, hoping he would like it too. He responded eagerly. In the next motion his tongue met hers, and again, and again. It was so close, so intimate, but it only made Hanah want to be closer.

For the first time in months, she was glad she was not an innocent maid anymore. If she had, this would have scared her much more. But then again, she would have liked her first experience with men to be with someone like Lord Fíli, someone who seemed to genuinely care even without the promise of future reward. Still, now she had more courage to act. She moved her arms to embrace his torso, as much a she could. It felt good to hold on to him.

Suddenly, he tilted his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She hummed in surprise and appreciation of the increased contact as he did so. No sooner had she gotten used to the movement and rhythm before he left her mouth and kissed her neck. His warm mouth and scratchy beard made new sensations stir within her. The hair on her arms rose and heat gathered between her legs. Hanah gasped.

His hands fell to her waist and gripped tightly. She pushed closer as she felt his teeth scrape against her throat before being replaced by tongue and lips once more. Then he stopped and rested his forehead against hers.

"I swear I will not risk your honour," he said, while squeezing her waist. "But I would very much like. . ." His thumbs caressed her sides. ". . .to touch you."

Their breaths mingled as they stood pressed together.

"Will you allow it?" he asked.

If she had not been so nervous, Hanah would have smiled. They disagreed more often than not, and he teased her and annoyed her, but she knew he would not break his word. He was too stubborn for that.

She nodded. "Yes."

Barely had she uttered the word before he was kissing her again. His hands were quickly undoing her belt. She was glad to have his face to focus on while having no idea where his hands were going.

The belt dropped to the floor and he started to work on the buttons of her shirt underneath the leather tunic. Unrestricted by the belt, the tunic hung open like a long vest, the linen shirt the only barrier between skin and open air.

Lord Fíli had only undone half of the buttons from the top before he picked her up, his strong arms holding her up around the hips. She thought he would put her down on the table or something, but he just held her as he kissed the bare skin of her chest and found his way beneath the collar of her shirt to kiss each breast.

Being lifted off the ground was a new experience for Hanah. No one had carried her since she was a small child. Her legs were pinned, but her hands were free. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. His bearded kisses made new waves of goose bumps erupt on her skin. When he moved from the left to the right breast and her shirt got in his way, she helped by holding her collar aside, letting him have complete access.

It was not until he expanded his exploration to the skin below and to the sides of her breasts that she started to squirm.

"_No, _not there," she gasped. She hoped he would not take advantage and tickle her on purpose.

He just chuckled and lightly bit one nipple before letting her down again. He shook off his jacket, leaving him in his own linen shirt. She swallowed nervously, but he did not move to undress further. Instead he kissed her mouth again.

She could taste salt on his lips, hers. Perhaps she should have bathed this morning? If she knew this would happen, she would not have thought twice about it.

He lifted the hem of her shirt and touched the skin beneath with his fingers, lightly around her nipples, around her breasts, and down over her stomach, down below her belly button, and stayed there above her trousers, tracing patterns, around and up and down.

In between kisses he whispered hoarsely. "Let me know if I go too far."

As soon as he said this, he dipped his fingers below her waistband.

Hanah inhaled sharply, but did not pull away. She did not want to stop altogether, but maybe it was too far? At first he just covered her with his hand, holding her most private, most hidden flesh. Not even Graham had done this. Yes, she had lain with him, but he had never really touched her there. She knew herself what she felt like. Warm, wooly, and now, as he ran a finger along her sex, sticky.

Suddenly, she was very aware of what was happening. Lord Fíli was touching her naked skin, most inappropriately, in her shop in the middle of the day. He, she could tell, had bathed and washed his hair with scented oil that very morning. She had not washed since the day before and her hands were dirty from work. The same hands which were now gripping his white shirt.

Hanah felt her face flush as he began to move his fingers over her sensitive folds, producing a sweet sting that travelled from her core down her legs. She broke their kiss abruptly.

"Wait," she said, out of breath. Her hands were on his shoulders.

He removed his hand and held her waist.

"Did I do something wrong?" His face was seriously inquisitive, but his thumbs rubbed circles on her hips.

She groaned and put her hands over her eyes. "No. It's just. . ." She forced herself to lower her hands, to not hide. "I'm just embarrassed."

He stilled. "Do you. . . not want me to?" he asked tentatively.

"It's not that," she said quickly. He relaxed visibly.

"No one has done exactly. . . _that_ to me before." She felt her cheeks burn.

His hands resumed their soothing rubbing.

"I know it can be overwhelming." His voice grew very deep and serious. "Especially in the presence of such an excellent dwarf as myself."

Hanah frowned and met his eye straight on. His face had adopted a pensive expression as he spoke. "Because you know, deep down, that there will be no going back. After you've had a sample of the real thing, no one but Fíli will be able to satisfy your female needs."

His dramatic words finally became too much and she started to laugh. His charade dropped and he smiled at her, showing deep dimples.

"You talk such nonsense, m'lord." She tried to sound sober.

"I don't know about that." He shrugged. "Simply being in the same room as me would make anyone self-conscious."

She gently pushed at his shoulder. "Don't be silly," she muttered, trying not to smile.

He tilted her head up and kissed her slowly. "What if," he said. Kiss. "I did not look at your face." Kiss. "And you did not look at mine?"

As if to prove his point he lowered his head to place kisses on her neck, so she could not see his face. The return of his lips on her skin, and the idea that he wanted to make her comfortable and try again, and what would happen if he did, made her stomach flutter.

"Ehm. . ." she wavered, but her hands moved to encircle his neck.

"Come. Let me show you," he said. He sat on the chair she used when she worked, pulled on her hand until she sat on his lap with her back to his chest.

It was true, she could not see him, but she could feel his strong body beneath her. She could feel his big, warm hands slipping under her shirt and gently stroking her belly, up and down, but stopping below her breasts and above her trousers. His breath was hot on her neck, lips barely touching.

"If you want me to continue, untie your trousers for me," he said low. It almost sounded as if he was asking for a favour. His deep voice asking permission like that, together with his movements, made her blood warm again.

The only thing that made her hesitate was that he made more fluid pool between her legs, and it was making her uncomfortable to know he would be touching it. Then his mouth sealed itself onto her shoulder, teeth scraping lightly, and his embrace tightened, one hand brushing the underside of her breast.

She wanted to be there. She wanted his arms around her. If he wanted to give this to her, then she wanted to receive it.

One of her hands rested on his leg for support, the other found the string at the top of her trousers and pulled on it until the knot dissolved. He knew the moment it was undone. His hand was flat as he pushed it underneath her waistband.

Gently he dipped a finger in her wetness, as one would with paint, and began to draw shapes on her skin, creating a sweet, sweet burn that came and went, but came back stronger every time.

Her breathing changed, sometimes quickening, sometimes longer, sometimes gasping, sometimes hissing, but he seemed to listen to every nuance. Whenever she made a louder noise his kisses on her throat grew more intense, his grip on her torso tighter. He hummed deep in his chest, as if the pleasure he created in her was also felt in his own body.

Suddenly, the peak she had been rising toward slipped away, or was it her that was slipping? And she felt heavy, so heavy with molten gold and crystals swirling like a whirlwind in her stomach, grounding her to the flesh and blood she rested on. She felt release, relief, release, relief. Released from shackles she had forgotten bound her.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the feeling drained away, leaving a tingling relaxation. And the awareness of her weight on top of Lord Fíli. She realized she was leaning back with her head on his shoulder. She straightened.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"No, no. Don't be." He pulled her back against him.

Hanah had touched herself before, but only a few times. It was difficult to have undisturbed peace and quiet when your sister was always in the same room. She had experienced the burn and her slick, smooth folds, but had never reached anything beyond. She always felt strange, never knowing what to think about, and always had the feeling she should not touch herself like that. She would grow frustrated and tired, so she stopped trying. It was so different when someone else was present, when someone else held the reins. It was foreign and embarrassing to give herself over, but also all the more powerful and surprising when the release came.

Was that what Graham had felt when they had lain together? It would explain the look on his face and the noises he made. Fortunately, Lord Fíli had not seen her face, but she may have uttered an _oh_ or an _ah_ somewhere at the end. She was pretty sure she had. Would he experience the same thing? Still on his lap, she angled her head towards him.

"Do you want me to. . .?" she asked.

"No, that's alright," he dismissed the suggestion. "If you did, I would want you to come at the same time, and we don't have time for that." He pushed a hand into her hair and kissed her over her shoulder. When he pulled back, all traces of amusement were gone.

"I did not plan this, just so you know. I did not come here to get into your bed." His hand still in her hair, he fixated her with his gaze. He seemed to wait for an answer.

"I believe you."

And she did. She and Lord Fíli had business together. She had refused his gifts, although only in principle, for she had not been able to return any of them. Except for the unexpected kiss last time, he had no reason to believe she would be willing. Although, she had not thought so either, yet here she was. Until now, she had not stopped to think where _here_ was. She knew it was not within the realm of propriety, and definitely not something she would advertise. Other than that, she just knew she did not want him to leave. But it was almost midday, and Hemery would be home soon.

He kissed her again, and when he drew back, the spark was back in his eyes.

"I need to oversee my investments after all. And I could not have people believing my gifts are not worth accepting, so I came to make you see reason."

"I haven't actually been able to return any of them," she protested.

"No, but I did receive complaints from an affected party regarding them."

So he had heard of Hanah's and Hemery's attempted refusals of the butter and the tub.

"And? Am I reasonable?" she asked.

Lord Fíli looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Reasonable is a relative term, but I do believe you're coming around." He caressed her breast under her shirt one last time before helping her button up.

Hanah stood to tie her trousers and retrieve her belt from the floor. She wanted to change underclothes, but she would wait to do so until he had left.

"I'll prepare some water for you to wash your hands," she said.

"It's fine," he said, and licked his fingers.

Her eyes grew wide, and she swatted his arm. "_Stop it._ What are you doin'?" she hissed at him, incredulous, as if he had tasted her monthly bleeding. He laughed at her shocked expression.

"It won't kill me."

"I know," she admitted, frozen shock still on her face. "But I don't think that's appropriate." She flushed.

"You regard _that_ as inappropriate?" His arm came around her waist and he moved in as if to kiss her. "You have no idea just how inappropriate things there are—"

Flushing, she turned and escaped his grasp, entering the kitchen.

"You are washing your hands," she decided. "You may have a cup of tea as well, but then you have to go."

Her back was straight, but her face hot as she heard him snickering.

* * *

Hemery came home after class with a spring in her step. For her midday meal she drank cold tea and ate a sandwich with cured ham and mustard. With the bread in hand she moved into the shop, humming a tune and surveyed her work for the afternoon.

Hanah, who had already eaten, sat in her chair by the table as usual, sewing beads to leather. She seemed tired, or distracted, Hemery thought. She took a long time to count the beads before threading them, starting over several times.

"What is it?" Hemery asked.

"What?" Hanah looked up, confused. She had been working a lot lately, but her face was fresh, a little pink even. There were no circles beneath her eyes, and her shoulders were surprisingly straight when she sat up.

"Somethin's different." Hemery took another bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly.

"Is it?" Hanah did not seem bothered to ask what Hemery meant, and returned to her beads.

Hemery looked around the shop. Everything was as she had left it in the morning. The walk home had been quiet, except for the usual clamor of Dale when she passed, and the only signs of life in the yard had been the thrushes and the swallows darting back and forth, and the echo of a woodpecker's creak in the pines.

Had someone been here when Hemery was gone?

She looked at the shelf where Hanah kept the finished orders. Empty.

"Has Lord Fíli been here?"

Hanah did not look up. "Yes. He picked up the three coats."

Why did the colour on Hanah's cheeks darken? Perhaps she was overly tired after all.


	15. Chapter 15 - Unexpected Questions part 1

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: FeeKilico, Akiluna, InezSophia, blaahblaahblaah, Rhyska Nevar, Cosetta P, Filiafamilias, and Anne79!

Special thanks to my lovely beta Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 15 - Unexpected Questions part 1

* * *

Everytime Hemery fell, a small burst of anger sparked in her chest. It did not hurt as much anymore. Strange how someone could get used to falling.

Well, _falling_ would suggest she did it all on her own out of clumsiness, which was definitely not the case. Being forced to the ground by an unstoppable power, more like. Dwalin was relentless. Just when Hemery thought she was progressing, he would deliver a series of strikes too fast to evade and she would be on her arse again.

"Don't be afraid to fall. This exercise is not about remainin' on your feet, it's about evasion. Imagine every move as an attack with a deadly weapon. Every body part I touch would be damaged. Divin' and grazin' a knee or an elbow is nothin' compared to a slashed artery."

"What's an artery?" Hemery asked when she came to her feet.

Dwalin paused in his assault to press two fingers to the side of his neck. "The veins that carry most of yer blood. Feel it." He motioned for her to imitate him.

Hemery's pulse was frenzied and familiar at her throat.

"If pierced, ye bleed to death in moments. Same goes fer every bend in yer body."

He made cutting motions to the back of her knees, her armpits, and lastly he pointed to the soft tissue in the middle of her abdomen, right beneath her ribcage. Hemery can feel a strong pulse against his fingertip.

"And here," he adds. "The most vulnerable parts of yer body are not shielded by bone or muscle, only a thin layer of skin."

"Bodies are weak," Hemery commented in disapproval.

"Aye," he agreed, straightening to his full height. "Which's why we must take extra care to stay away from sharp things. Though I understand that can be difficult, seein' as ye have such a talent fer kickin' on the ground like a ladybug on her back."

"I'm not an insect. I _am_ tryin' my best," she protested.

He ignored her comment. "Not to mention yer habit of attractin' attention."

"I don't attract anythin'." She curved her lip.

"Have ye already forgotten yer first night in Dale, how I had to save ye from that degenerate at the Inn?"

"That wasn't our fault."

"Unguarded ladies, especially those who excel at craft and spends gold are sure to make targets of themselves."

"That's not fair—" Hemery frowned, but Dwalin held a hand up to stop her.

"Aye, I know it's unintentional. But ye better get used to it, ladybug. It will only get worse."

Hemery blanched, but her frustration did not drain. "Why should we have to get used to anythin'?"

"Because of who ye are. Those orders yer makin' fer Fee are goin' to make people notice ye."

"It's just a job. What's wrong with wantin' to do it well?"

"Nothin'. It's what everyone should strive for, but not everyone can do it as well as ye, and it will make ye shine in folks eyes. There are some treasures ye can't bury beneath a mountain. Some ye display on a market table, some are in yer skin."

It was probably visible on her face, Hemery's struggle to comprehend this new threat she had no control over.

Dwalin sighed. "Ye need not fear for yer safety as long as I'm here, but as fer the other thing, I'll say this—I love the lad, but there's a reason Fee comes to visit as often as he does, and it ain't to see me."

"Then what?"

"Why would any warm-blooded fella visit a bonny lass like Miss Hanah?"

Hemery though about that a long time after her session with Dwalin was over.

* * *

Hanah rushed to the door of the shop, buttoning up her shirt properly as she went. Hemery had already gone to class in Erebor, and Hanah had just finished cleaning up after breakfast when she heard the knock on the door. She tucked her loose hair behind her ears. She could only guess who would visit this early in the morning.

"Mornin', m'lord," she greeted with a small bow of her head.

"Good morning, Miss Hanah." Lord Fíli bowed back. "How are you this fine day?"

"I'm well, thank you." She glanced behind her to the kitchen. "What brings you here? It's a bit early for business."

He smiled and invited himself in, walking past her into the shop. "Thank you, I am very well, so good of you to inquire."

He was dressed more casual today in a shirt, leather trousers, and a sword holster thrown haphazardly over his back. It was too warm in the late summer to wear much more. She could see the fabric strain across his broad back when he looked around the room.

She closed the door behind him. "I can see you're very much your usual good-humoured self, so I didn't bother askin'."

"Your observation is accurate and astute as always."

His eyes lingered on her. Hanah remembered that she was only wearing her linen shirt. The material was quite thin and she knew it hid very little in direct sunlight. She turned her back to the windows and crossed her arms.

"Your next delivery is almost ready. A few buttons and hooks left." She pointed to a coat on a hanger behind him.

As he ran his eyes over it, she glanced toward the kitchen, worried that she would hear that hissing noise of the water on the stove boiling over and drowning the she turned her attention back to her guest, he was watching her.

"What is it?" Lord Fíli frowned. "Is someone here?"

"No, I just. . . I have something on the fire. I'll be right back." She held up a finger for him to wait there, and hurried to the kitchen, pushing the door closed behind her.

The large pan of water was seething. She did not wait for it to boil, but lifted the pan to the side and calmed the flames. She closed the hatch to the fire and was going to return to the shop, when she noticed he had followed her.

She froze and was about to usher him back out as quickly, but it was no use. He had already seen. His frown of curiosity disappeared.

"So this is what you did not want me to see. The secret." He touched the edge of the bathtub Hanah had managed to roll into the small kitchen. She had almost filled it with warm water when he interrupted her.

"Miss Hanah's bath time." He smirked and his eyes glittered. "And with the horrid, free merchandise, as well. Who would have thought, eh?"

Hanah took a deep breath to strengthen her patience. She folded her arms, lifted her chin and smiled tightly, as if she was not in the least affected by his taunts.

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"Are you?" He put his hand in the water. "It's really nice. Should hurry before it cools."

She shifted her weight, but said nothing. He came closer.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Too embarrassed to undress in front of me?"

Hanah scoffed.

The nerve of him, to visit unannounced, interrupt her personal time, and then tease her about it. But it was nothing new, was it? It seemed he would always demand her time, whether it was business related or not. She moved to keep her distance, but he hindered her escape, gripping her waist lightly, but unmistakably.

"It's not like I haven't seen—"

"_Don't_ you dare finish that sentence," she interrupted, with cheeks flaming and a fingertip to his chest. If possible, he smiled even wider. She could feel herself beginning to melt from the heat of his hands. "If you carry on like that, I don't think you deserve to watch me undress a single stocking."

"Of course I do. I promise, I'll be nice." He leaned in as if to kiss her.

How did she get to this place with him again? One moment she was alone, preparing a bath, and the next Lord Fíli knocked on the door and wanted her to undress in front of him. And, naturally, she was too embarrassed to undress at the drop of a hat, he was right about that.

She turned her face away. "Was there somethin' you wanted?"

He chuckled. "I would think that's fairly obvious." He leaned in again, but she turned her head the other way.

"I mean, other than. . . this?"

"Not today." He was watching her seriously now.

How beautiful he was. How special she felt when he held her. How warm she became when he looked at her with that silent, honest question. She wanted to grab the braids of his mustache and pull him toward her, but she did not. She did, however, close the small distance between them and kissed him.

Soft, solid, warm. Persistent arms tightened around her waist, broad chest against hers. Hanah almost laughed at how quickly heat pooled in her when she kissed him. She kept her eyes open to look at him.

He was always beautiful, but more so now like this. Relaxed and tense at the same time. Hard and soft. Utterly concentrated with a small frown. No more teasing, only focus. Focus on her, as if he was searching for something.

Like last time, she made herself soft and pliant in his arms to show her earlier rejection was not sincere. She put one arm around his neck and felt the muscles and tendons work under his skin. The other hand moved to the side of his face. She felt the warm skin of his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard, and then the cool, smooth skin of his ear. She knew he had big ears, but had not given it much thought as they were hidden in his mane of hair most of the time. She did not wish to draw attention to their physical differences, but she could not resist trailing her fingertips along the shell of his ear and down his neck. He hummed as she did so. Perhaps he did not mind.

Lord Fíli's big hands travelled down over her hips to squeeze her bottom. She drew in a sharp breath, but did not break the kiss. His hands then moved to her front to the strings that fastened her trousers.

"May I?" he asked. So respectfully. So carefully. So attentively.

Hanah nodded. He pulled on the strings and opened her trousers, but instead of just reaching inside, he pulled them down her legs for her to step out of.

He was sneaky to get her undressed though she had initially refused. But it was alright, Hanah concluded. It was _he_ who was undressing her, instead of standing idly by merely observing while she stripped for his viewing pleasure.

He had to take of her shoes while he bent down in front of her to get the trousers off completely.

"Why can't you wear skirts like other women folk?" he huffed dramatically.

"I'm sorry, m'lord, for not bein' like proper women," she replied in kind.

"I believe you said something about stockings? They'll have to go as well." He lifted her feet one at a time to pull them off. Hanah laughed.

He stayed on his knees before her. He ran his hands up the back of her legs, fingers just grazing her swell of her bottom. Then his mouth was on her inner thigh, moving upward.

Hanah's shirt still covered her center, but she would soon be bared if his pace was anything to go by. She had an idea where he was heading, and was shocked as well as intrigued.

Suddenly, a familiar moment of clarity came over her, just like last time. She was aware of everything in her surroundings. The grains of sand between the soles of her feet and the stone floor. The cooling water in the tub. The fact that she had not used it yet that morning, and that Lord Fíli was kneeling before her, his hot breath and raspy beard on her skin, about to please her with his mouth. About to taste her and smell her. The warmest, softest part of his body against the most sensitive and intimate of hers. She was feeling vulnerable, it was a bit scary, but she refrained from stopping him this time. She knew he did this because he wanted to.

And she wanted it too. Hanah had thought of little else since his last visit. Heat had flooded her at every reminder of the encounter. Every morning Hemery came in with a new present—butter, soap, new bedlinens with a high thread count, or exotic spices—she blushed for reasons she could not explain to her sister, no matter how many times she asked, and simply put the package away in the kitchen cupboard. There were no more refusals. She received and enjoyed every offering.

Their encounter had seemed so innocent. Neither of them were married, that she knew of, and she was not risking getting pregnant again. And no one knew of this new connection. From this perspective, it was fine. She could indulge in this moment.

Hanah leaned her head back as his lips and tongue found her. Lord Fíli's mouth was softer than his fingers had been, but just as relentless. With intense, but slow, strokes and sucking, he pushed her towards the same peak as last time. Sometimes the climb was so slow she almost thought she would not reach it, but that only made the following rise all the sweeter.

He opened her more by hitching her leg over his shoulder. She braced herself on the kitchen table behind her. When she sensed the approach of the golden whirlwind on the horizon, he suddenly raised her other leg as well, forcing her to lie down on her back on the table. He continued licking and sucking her flesh with both of her legs over his shoulders.

Hanah could feel the release approaching more forcefully now when she was not distracted by her tense, tired legs. Her breathing grew shallow and her stomach muscles twitched. He responded with a groan as if he felt the sensations building in her. His hands tightened on her hips, and when the whirlwind gripped her, she clasped his wrists.

As she came down from her high, he kissed her stomach before straightening. She pulled her knees together, rested her heels on the edge of the table and tried to catch her breath. Then she covered her face with her hands and laughed.

Lord Fíli leaned over her, stroking her legs. "What is it?" He smiled and placed a kiss on her knee.

She peeked at him, still hiding her open smile. "Just look at me. What am I doing?"

She allowed him to pull her up by her hands.

"Whatever you want," he said, and kissed her. She could taste a tart sweetness, kind of like raw potatoes, which she guessed was her own. His beard was wet. She pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, flushing, and wiped his chin with her hand. "You can clean your face in the tubwater."

He groaned, seemingly unwilling to move from her embrace. "I don't care about that." He tried to kiss her again.

Hanah pushed at his chest. "But I do. You're not leavin' here with that stuff on your face."

She slid off the table and fetched a washcloth to wet in the tub. He took it when she offered it to him. She moved to the stove to heat the last bathwater. While she waited for the pan to boil she turned to him.

Lord Fíli reclined in a chair by the table, with one hand resting flat on the table, the other on his knee. He was watching her. She was aware of her naked legs, though the essentials were now covered by the long shirt once more. She prepared two cups of tea with water from a smaller kettle.

"So. . . how come you don't want anythin' in return?" Hanah asked.

"I'm getting plenty in return," he replied, saluting her with his tea-cup.

"You know what I mean."

He looked down into his cup.

"I would never enter a woman's house and expect her to service me." He met her gaze. "If you would like to, you may come to me, but never assume you need to. Besides, I like to make myself wait." Amusement danced in his eyes. "And I will remember your taste when I am in my own bath tonight." He fixed her with his stare while he took a drink.

Hanah had to look away then. Even though his words were nothing compared to what she had allowed him to do only moments ago, the image he conjured in her mind of his strong, naked body caressed by hot water made her blush furiously.

So he was perhaps not expecting her to, but certainly waiting for the time when she would seek him out, and was looking forward to it. He seemed to believe she would not be able to help herself, that it was only a matter of time. The thought made her stomach flutter, and at the same time the corners of her mouth twitch with barely contained mirth.

He sat there totally relaxed and confident, like it was not completely inappropriate for them to meet this way. For her to even have tea with a male who was not her family or her husband was unthinkable by the standards of her upbringing. How could he be so calm about this, like it was a common occurrence? Maybe it was for him?

"Have you. . . ?" Hanah began. "That is—" The hissing and spluttering of boiling water interrupted her. She covered her hands with oven rags and moved the boiling pan from the heat source.

"What was that?" Lord Fíli asked.

She did not look at him as she carefully poured the hot water into the bathtub. "I was just thinkin', what you said about other women's skirts. Have you done this a lot?"

"Done what?"

She searched for the right words while she brought out a fresh towel, soap, and the bottle of scented oil from the chest in the corner. "Have you visited women like this before?"

"They have mostly visited me. When you live as long as we do, things are bound to happen."

Hanah poured some oil into the water and stirred it with her hand. "I just find it strange. I would never have thought this was viewed as normal."

"Normal—yes. Spoken about—no."

She wondered if she should wait until he left before bathing, but he did not seem to find her a lacking hostess for occupying herself with other tasks while he was there. And they had already broken every rule of propriety she had ever been taught. With her back to him, she unbuttoned her shirt while he spoke.

"Unmarried dwarves, especially nobility, cannot be seen with different bed partners." He turned silent when she pushed the shirt off her shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair.

Hanah stepped into the tub. The hot water pinched her cold feet, but she knew it would pass soon. One end of the tub was higher than the other to rest one's back against, and the position of the tub in the room made her sit with her back to Lord Fíli.

With a scoop, she poured water over her hair. She heard his chair scrape against the stone floor. If he was leaving he could show himself out. She was not worried he would disapprove.

She reached for the soap, but it was not there.

"Let me." His voice came from behind her. She craned her neck to see him. He had moved his chair next to the tub.

Not leaving then.

His hand holding the soap dipped into the water, and after a moment he began to lather her hair and massage her scalp.

Hanah felt goose bumps along her spine and smiled.

"So how come in this long life full of. . . experience," she began, "you have never married? The main responsibility of nobility is to provide heirs, right?"

"Too busy, I guess, to bother. Thinking there's always time later. It's, eh. . . a long and complicated process."

Hanah laughed. "Yeah, I can see you're very busy."

Suddenly, a scoop of water was emptied on her head, sending suds of soap into her eyes.

"_Alright_," she admitted, splashing water into her face to remove the soap. "You're a very busy and important dwarf, alright?"

"Correct," was his dry reply.

"And it's graciously generous of your nobleness to take time out of your hectic day to _wash my hair_."

The sound of his laughter warmed her more than the water.

"What if someone would court _you_?" he asked.


	16. Chapter 16 - Unexpected Questions part 2

Thanks to everyone who adds, and my reviewers: katnor, InezSophia, FeeKilico, Momotte, marulk, Akiluna, Rhyska Nevar, Skywolf42, and Filiafamilias!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter16 - Unexpected Questions part 2

* * *

"What if someone were to court _you_?" Lord Fíli asked. "Do you wish to marry?"

Hanah thought of her attempt with Graham. She felt exhausted and dispirited by the mere thought of another courtship. She groaned, a noise of distaste.

"I don't think so," she settled—a clear understatement.

"How come?"

She wondered if she should tell him. He already knew her every secret and had not turned her away thus far.

"Tried it once. Didn't work out so well."

"What happened?"

"He found out I was poor, and broke off our engagement."

"Just for that?" He sounded astounded.

She chuckled without humour. "Why settle for me when he could marry someone else and be rich?"

"Money is the last thing you should focus on when deciding who to spend the rest of your life with."

She frowned. What was he talking about? Money was the _sole_ reason anyone married, to keep it, or to make more—that was it.

"You and I have very different ideas of how marriage works, m'lord."

"What's your idea then?" he asked.

"Well, a man asks the family of a woman of similar birth to marry him, and they agree. After the handfasting, the woman's family will pay the man a dowry, and then she goes to live with him. She gives him many sons and he gives her a home and protection."

Lord Fíli's hands stills in her hair.

"But that doesn't make sense."

"What?"

"The lady's family give her away _and_ their money?"

"Yeah."

"It should be the other way around."

"He should give _them_ money?"

"Of course. How else will he show them he can take care of her and her children?"

"Well, they already know."

"How?"

"His work. His employment, or position in the town. Y'know—his status." She shrugged.

His hands began working again, though her hair was more than clean by now.

"That's just wrong," he established. "Status will not provide enough to eat, or protect her from harm. He must prove his worth. A wife is a gift to be cherished. She is the center of the hearth, an educator of children, a weaver of family bonds, the nurse who heals every wound."

He obviously had high standards to match when it came to choosing a wife. Of course he would take his time about it. His conviction was overwhelming. Hanah's eyes stung—she probably still had soap in her eyes.

"And what of compatibility?" he went on. "Does she simply agree with no thought to common values, common aims, sentiments or sensibilities?"

She did not know exactly what he meant by that, but he had clearly given it a lot of thought. It made her feel ashamed of the way she had agreed to marry Graham when he asked. He had seemed agreeable enough. He had asked about her day and picked her flowers. She knew he came from a good family. She thought it had been better to take the opportunity when it arose. Who knew if she would ever receive another offer?

The decision had been made quickly and undone as quickly. It seemed life was that way. At least the lives of men. Quick turns, up and down. Lord Fíli was a noble dwarf, he could afford to be picky.

"I guess our values are different from yours," she said in a low voice, watching water droplets fall from her fingertips into the tub. "Marriage is a business. We buy security. Buyin' a home, or buyin' children. That's how it goes, around and around."

"And like or dislike, personal desires have nothing to do with it?"

There he went talking about desire again.

"Not really. It's not about what you want, it's about what you need. One can't live off one's parents forever."

"But you don't have parents to burden, to interfere or persuade you to marry."

"No. And I will probably never marry either." Her tone was sober.

"Don't you want a companion to share joy and sorrow with, see your shared hearth fill with children? A second self to complete you? Someone who inspires you to become a better person?"

Hanah actually snorted at his words. Lord Fíli seemed to have taken his childhood lullabies and bedtime stories a little too seriously.

"I already have more than I could ever wish for. I have a home, my own business, I have Hem. I have food on the table, and I'm never alone."

"And when she grows up and wants to live her own life?"

She did not want to speak the words out loud, that Hemery would probably remain unmarried just like Hanah. Even the thought felt like a betrayal towards Hemery.

"That's years from now," she simply dismissed.

"Years pass quickly."

He would know, would he not?

"I'll manage." She tipped her head back to rinse her hair. Then she took a washcloth and began scrubbing her arms.

When he remained silent for such a long time, she turned to look at him.

Lord Fíli still sat leaning forward in the chair right behind her, his elbows resting on his knees, his face blank.

"Do you even like me?"

The question took her off guard. His face was so serious, she wanted to assure him somehow. She did not know the name of all the things he made her feel. How to give an easy answer? She leaned on the high edge of the tub and touched his arm.

"Sure I do," she said, sounding lighthearted like she did when trying to cheer Hemery up.

He frowned and averted his gaze. Wrong answer?

How had he described it when he spoke of like and dislike? She tried again.

"I mean, I prefer you to others."

He looked up then, one inquisitive eyebrow raised in expectation. She could tell he was not satisfied.

"No one speaks to me like you do," she said.

He cracked a lopsided smile, but it faded. She continued.

"You listen to me and care about my well fare. You make me laugh, but you also make me grind my teeth—I'm not sayin' this right." She sighed, and shook her head. "I like makin' _you_ laugh. It makes me. . . glad."

He covered her hand with his own. "And do you miss me when I'm gone?"

Hanah thought about it. She had missed her mother when she died, but that was such a long time ago. She hardly remembered what she looked like. She had worried for her, wondered where she had gone. She had worried for her father whenever he left home, but she had always known he would return. And she had never been a day without Hemery since she was born, so she never missed her.

"I don't think so," she said, uncertain.

Definitely the wrong answer. He looked down at their joined hands.

"I'm not worried about you because I know you're safe in the mountain with your guards and your sword. And I know I'll see you again soon, but. . ."

Lord Fíli searched her face, waiting for her to go on.

"I never want you to leave when you're here."

His expression softened, a hint of a smile on his lips. He leaned in for a watery kiss. Water droplets still clung to her face.

"I worry about you," he said.

They had talked about this before. She shrugged. "Well, don't."

"How can I not when I'm safely locked in the mountain, and you're not?"

She smiled and kissed him.

"I'm fine," she said, letting go of his hand. She turned and picked up her washcloth. He sat back, drinking his tea and watched Hanah as she bathed.

It was not until she had dried off and dressed in fresh clothes that she told him to leave.

"You said you didn't want me to go," he protested.

"That's not the same as needing you to leave so I can get some work done. You'll just distract me." She ushered him to the door.

"Aye," he agreed, grabbing her waist. "I am very good at that." He pulled her close and buried his nose in her still wet hair. "My gifts smell good on you."

"Goodbye, m'lord." She kissed him soundly one last time before opening the door.

As if suddenly becoming aware of the existence of the outside world by the sunshine hitting his face, he seemed to sober and searched for something in his pocket.

"I was distracted last time. I forgot your payment," he said, bringing forth a purse for her to take.

To be honest, Hanah had forgotten it herself. She had plenty left from last time, so she had not needed it yet.

"Oh—of course. Thank you."

Lord Fíli did not linger, but gave her one last smile. "Goodbye, Hanah." He bowed his head and strode out.

Hanah closed the door after him and stood immobile for a moment. She felt the weight of gold in her hand, but she did not even open it to see how much was there.

A strange feeling creeped up on her to lay heavy over her shoulders. Something to do with the purse in her hand. Something to do with the frequency of their encounters. It disturbed her that she only saw Lord Fíli because they had business together. They were not in each other's natural company, so to speak. Somehow, she felt that the gold in her hand would always stand between them. The thing he had and she did not. The thing he gave her more of than her services were worth.

Because the gold was only for the coats, was it not?

* * *

After class was over, Hemery did not go straight home like she usually did. She went to the library which Lord Fíli had promised she could use. But this time, she was not looking for books on sword play or dragons.

The thick door boomed closed behind her. She loved the smell in here. Paper, dust, and burning pine from the fireplace in the middle of the room. The mantle was higher than she was tall and open two ways. Personally, she thought it was stupid to have an open fire in a library. She never went near it. She preferred the lanterns, gaslight encased in glass that you could carry as you searched for books along the shelves.

Hemery was not very good at reading yet. She knew all the letters, but it took a long time. She even knew some Khuzdul, though she was not supposed to hear those lessons.

She began walking along the wall of books, holding the lantern high. The order was alphabetical, to some extent, in terms of field of study. Honestly, she did not know where to start so she just kept walking, reading what she could on the cracked, burnt, ripped backs of the ancient volumes. All the while spelling the syllables out to herself, but softly—she knew how well sound travelled in the gigantic room.

Once, she had dropped a particularly thick tome from the sixth shelf. Its contact with the floor had sounded like a thunderclap. A grumpy guard had poked his head in, demanding to know if she was attempting to wake the ghost of Smaug with that racket.

Hemery had apologized, but only because she knew he would not leave unless she did. It would not help if she maintained that it was not her fault you had to climb a ladder from the Second Age to reach the books, and that the library had been designed by the most dimwitted dwarf. And it would definitely not help if she asked whether the architectural genius possibly could have been a blood relation to the guard who found it in good taste to take The Dragon's name in vain within the mountain?

Besides, who could ever have thought it was good idea to build a library in Erebor upwards? _They were dwarves_. Not exactly known for their tall reach.

So Hemery was careful to keep her voice down when she walked the stone floor of the library, reading the backs, but it did not help.

"Stop that singing, girl," a low rumble sounded from somewhere down the room.

Hemery whirled around. In the light of the fireplace, she could see someone moving in one of the chairs there.

A mass of long, dark hair hung over broad, fur covered shoulders. It was the sweltering last days of summer outside, but in the mountain the temperature was never-changing. She guessed this dwarf did not get out much.

"I'm not singin', I'm readin'," she explained.

"Stop your reading then. This is a place for silence."

"It's a library. I thought it was a place for readin'," she countered.

"And what's _your_ place, girl? Do you know it?" he snapped, the baritone echoing down the hall like a war horn. Hemery froze.

"What are you doing here, anyway? This room is private."

Finally—a straight question.

"Lord Fíli said I was welcome to use the library whenever I wished because I'm learnin' how to read."

"_Lord Fíli_ never mentioned anything about letting stray children of men be given learning in Erebor. Aren't you a bit old to be illiterate?"

She curved her lip. She did not know what the word meant, but she could guess. "I didn't know there was an age limit."

Suddenly, he rose from his chair, approaching her with long, heavy strides. He was tall for a dwarf, and a lot taller than her. She had to force herself to stay put. As he moved, his black coat swayed open, revealing a white fur lining the inside. Hemery knew that coat.

"What's your name, girl?" He stopped a few feet away.

"Hemery Skinner. Me and my sis—" She corrected herself. "My sister and I made that coat you're wearing."

"Is that so?"

"Black calf skin, water-resistant, mother of pearl beads. The loose rabbit fur on the inside makes it warmer because air can move between the skins, but it was only made that way because Hanah didn't have time to fasten them all the way before it was sold."

Right as she said it, Hemery knew Hanah would not like for her to tell their customers things like that.

"I have heard of your sister."

If she thought the dwarf would elaborate on this statement, she was mistaken. After a long scrutinizing gaze, he turned to go back to his chair.

"Now find what you're looking for, _quietly_, and leave."

"I'm not sure, sir, where—"

He stopped in his tracks and groaned exasperated. "What do you need?"

"A book about dwarves."

He stared blankly at her. Had he not heard her? He must have. She explained further. "Customs, traditions and things. We're probably going to live by the mountain a while. I'd like to know these things, you know, so I won't accidentally offend anyone."

Perhaps it was too late for that. No matter, it was not true anyway, but it was what Hanah would have used as an excuse. He would not help her if he knew the real reason she needed the book. If he knew, they would be having a completely different conversation, much less pleasant than this.

At last, he unglued his feet from the floor and crossed the expanse of the long room. At first, she thought he was leaving, but then he stopped somewhere in the shadows before returning, holding something. He stopped by the fireplace, but held the item towards her as if offering it to her.

Hemery came up to him and closed her finger around the slim book. He did not let go.

"It's merely a loan," he said.

She nodded.

"You may return it tomorrow. I need peace and quiet. This is the only place in the mountain where people do not disturb me with endless, arbitrary pursuits and petitions—or so I thought." He released the book. "At least few others seem to know what a library is, much less go look for it."

The dwarf sat down heavily in his chair.

Hemery thought there was an insult thrown at her in there somewhere, but she ignored it. Tomorrow was the equinox.

"M'lord, there's the celebration tomorrow—"

He scoffed in derision. "The blasted celebration." He rubbed his forehead. "I could do without constant reminders of the days of my life I would rather bloody well forget, much less celebrate. Thank Mahal they're growing sparse. Used to be every year, now every fifth year. The greedy beast is still robbing us from beyond the grave. _Very well_, return the day after tomorrow."

"Thank you," Hemery said, turning to go.

"And don't tell anyone you saw me in here, either," he called after her.

She paused by the door. She could not tell anyone even if she wished to, he had not introduced himself.

"Saw who, m'lord?"

"That's right," he settled the matter with a bark. He leaned back in his chair, like a calming bull slumping in his stall, tired after banging his head against the bars of his cell.

She tried to close the door even more carefully than usual, but it still boomed as if a cave troll was knocking on it go gain entrance. Hemery winced and ran straight home.


	17. Chapter 17 - An Unexpected Demand

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: blaahblaahblaah, Anne79, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, marulk, InezSophia, FeeKilico, Filiafamilias, Skywolf42, jennlit, Rhyska Nevar, and Akiluna!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 17 - An Unexpected Demand

* * *

"If you don't get out soon you'll look like a big prune," Hanah said.

Hemery was lying in the bathtub with her head resting on the edge, holding her book high to catch the light from the candles on the kitchen table. She had been in there a long time, and begged her sister to reheat the kettle twice before Hanah said it was enough bathing for one night.

"It's getting late, and we still need to empty the damn thing before bed."

Hanah sat at the table, sewing beads onto the last coat.

"How come you changed your mind? About the tub?" Hemery asked, not moving her eyes away from the pages of the book.

"Lord Fíli is a very stubborn dwarf. And he made it very clear that he was not goin' to stop givin' us things, so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts. He'll soon find somethin' else to amuse himself with, other than comin' here to tease and make fun of us little, poor people."

Hemery looked at her sister then.

"Is that why he does it?"

Hanah liked to think he did it because he cared about them and wanted them to be comfortable. But he was so different from everyone she had ever met, she could not calculate why he did the things he did, why he sought her company, and why he cared. He had an entire mountain full of people of his own kind who could amuse him and warm his bed, should he wish it. She looked up from her needle.

"Who knows what the dwarf lord is thinking?" She shrugged.

Hemery returned to her book. It had taken a while, but it was becoming easier to read. It was like a puzzle she had begun to piece together, and the more she read, the clearer the picture became in her mind. But reading in the dim light made her sleepy.

"Be careful not to drop the book in the water," Hanah advised.

Hemery froze. She could just imagine the look on the stern dwarf's face if she would return the book to the library all wrinkly and damp.

She turned, aimed, and threw it out of harms way on top of the table. Then she stepped out of the tub.

"No training tonight?" Hanah asked.

"Dwalin is meeting his brother about something important, and he thinks I'll spy on them."

"What?" Hanah's head jerked up.

Hemery shrugged. "Not really. He just said I'd better keep my ears to myself so I'll not get any fancy ideas, whatever that means."

Hanah smiled. Her little sister had become very fond of Dwalin, as had Hanah. It made Hanah relax somewhat to know they had a grown male around, for safety of course, but also that other kind of guidance a man could give which Hanah in her young years and limited experience could not. Hanah thought it was especially beneficial for Hemery to have a male dwarf to look up to when growing up in a kingdom dominated by dwarves.

Hanah had the deepest respect for Dwalin. He had a rough exterior, but she knew he had good principles, values, and a code of honour he lived by as a warrior. And some strong ideas about privacy which Hemery was bending to her will, slowly, but surely.

"He just wants to draw a line in the sand," Hanah said.

"What sand?"

"The invisible boundary which separates his life and ours. He wants to keep his privacy, some space where you cannot enter."

Hemery frowned.

"You are over there every day," Hanah explained. "He'll want some time where he can sit in peace, and smoke and drink with his brother and_ feel like a man_." She adopted a serious expression and lowered her voice in imitation of Dwalin and his accent.

"But he's not a man—"

"You know what I mean, Hem," Hanah interrupted.

Hemery dried off and wrapped herself in one of the large fluffy towels Lord Fíli had sent them. She sat at the table opposite Hanah.

"Is Dwalin a good teacher?" Hanah asked.

Hemery thought of how sore she had been every day for the first two weeks of her 'training.'

"He's horrible."

Hanah raised her eyebrows at her sister.

"But he's good, 'cause I'm learning a lot," Hemery continued. "He's horrible _and_ good. How can that be one person?"

"People are complicated. You know you hate me sometimes, but you love me at the same time?"

"I never hate you."

Hanah laughed. "Remember that every mornin' for the rest of your life when I try to wake you up."

"Do you like Lord Fíli?" Hemery asked.

Hanah tried to show no reaction as she focused on her beads, but Hemery noticed how her shoulders tensed.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like mother and father liked each other."

"Mother and father were married for over ten years," Hanah dismissed. "I hardly know Lord Fíli, and even if I did—" She stopped herself to gather her thoughts. "It doesn't matter, because he is a dwarf lord, our employer, and I am. . . what I am."

Hemery did not recognize Hanah's tone. Usually, when trying to make Hemery understand something important, she would open her eyes wide and look straight at Hemery, as if she would be able to read the truth in her eyes. And her words would be structured and logical. At the moment, Hanah did neither.

"But do you like him?" Hemery asked, determined to have an answer.

Hanah sighed and her hands stilled on the coat, but she still would not look at Hemery. After a long moment she spoke.

"He is the kindest, most intelligent, considerate, and amusing person I have ever met."

And handsome, fascinating, intriguing, alluring, captivating. . . Hanah's thoughts spun further. She could not make them stop now that she had begun describing him, but she forced herself to not utter anymore.

"And does that mean—"

"That's all," Hanah settled.

Hemery knew Hanah would not say those things about Lord Fíli if they were not true, but she did not know why Hanah was so reluctant to talk about it. Hemery knew Lord Fíli had been coming to see Hanah. He did not need to collect his orders in person, but he always did. Dwalin had even said Lord Fíli sometimes left their house empty-handed.

If Hanah was made uncomfortable by his attentions, she would have said something about it, or stopped him from coming. She would have found some clever way to avoid him, meeting him in the market, or making Dwalin help her find some alternative. But she did not. She had even accepted his gifts.

Hemery wondered if Hanah encouraged Lord Fíli's visits.

Hanah reached for the book on the table. She ran her hands over the ink, as if she could soak up the words' meaning through her fingertips. She flickered through a few pages.

"What are you reading about?"

Hemery bit her lip. "Dwarven customs," she answered simply.

"Hmm." Hanah ran her eyes over the cover, and pointed at a letter in the title. "I know that one. It's the first letter of our names."

"H," Hemery supplied.

Hanah frowned. "Is it?"

"It's pronounced _ha_," Hemery explained, breathing it silently. "But it's called H."

Hanah put the book down. "Perhaps you could read it to me sometime?"

"Sure."

"Now put some clothes on. That tub isn't goin' to empty itself." Hanah put the coat and the needle aside and stood to fetch two water buckets.

* * *

Hemery waited outside the corridor to Lord Fíli's study. Not near the entrance, she did not like the look of those guards. They looked extra glaring and menacing today. She guessed they had a lot to glare at.

From the autumn equinox until Durin's Day, the jubilee of the return to Erebor was celebrated. People came from all over Middle Earth to celebrate and show their respect to the dwarven kingdom. Dwalin had explained how the festival was an opportunity for other heads of state to improve their connections with Erebor, set up trade routes, negotiate, bargain, show good will, give token presents, or simply ask favours.

This was the twentieth anniversary of the dwarves' return to the Lonely Mountain, and it was a particularly big festival, beginning in September and lasting until October. There was a lot of eating and drinking. Scenes were played out, describing of the defeat over The Dragon, and there would be music and dancing going on almost every day.

Over night, the market in Dale had exploded and stretched down the streets of the entire city, including hundreds and hundreds more people than usual. The stalls of products, food, and drink flowed seamlessly from Dale to Erebor, and Hemery had to elbow her way through the anteroom to get inside. People walked _so slowly_.

It was almost noon. She had been to class despite it being the first day of the festival. According to Master Ori, one could have fun and study at the same time. Hemery liked class, but she would trade it in a heartbeat for a feast like the one underway below. And she doubted Master Ori would have the guts to state the same thing to the poor souls working in the kitchens this day.

Hemery knew Hanah wanted her home as soon as possible. They had a lot to do, especially during the festival, but she needed to do this first. It was a matter of honour.

She did not have to wait long.

Lord Fíli and his brother, flanked by guards, came from the direction of the council halls, where all nobles seemed to 'work.' As far as Hemery could tell, that just meant they sat at a table talking around each other.

She stepped out right into their path.

"Lord Fíli, I would have words." She spoke clearly, holding her chin high.

Two of the guards placed themselves between Hemery and the brothers, their spears crossed in front of them. The action would have been more impressive had Hemery not been perfectly able to duck and slip under them.

"Stand down,"Lord Fíli commanded in a strangely flat, but loud voice Hemery had never heard him use before. The guards stepped aside as Lord Fíli came forward.

"What is it?" His voice was lower and softer now that he addressed Hemery. "Is something wrong?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"That depends. I want to speak with you."

He frowned. "Very well." He ushered her toward the corridor. "Go on, brother. I'll meet you shortly."

Lord Kíli's eyes widened in astonishment and he threw his hands out, palms up, as if to convey his complete disbelief of the statement. "But we were going to go do that thing!"

"We will. Later, Kíli."

"Do you think I'm bloody backwards or something? You always say that and then we never do. I'm not falling for that one again." Lord Kíli followed them through the corridor, while the guards remained outside the entrance.

Hemery was shown to a large room with a fireplace, a desk, and tapestries and bookshelves lining the walls. It had to be Lord Fíli's study Hanah had spoken of. Lord Kíli went straight to the sideboard where he poured himself a drink, pulling the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. Lord Fíli turned to Hemery.

"Will you sit?" he offered her politely.

"No thanks."

"So what is it you wish to discuss?"

Hemery glanced at Lord Kíli's back. This was a rather sensitive topic, but if he did not mind his brothers presence when she had specifically asked to speak to only Lord Fíli, then _fine_.

"I know you've been coming to see my sister."

Lord Fíli frowned. "Aye. We do business. But you know this."

"I mean, you've been meeting her _in secret_."

Lord Kíli slowly turned around to watch them, so slowly it was as if he considered his brother and the girl wild animals he did not wish to startle by alerting them to his presence. His eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, the cup in his hand all but forgotten. Lord Fíli did not reply, but he grew a little pink beneath his beard.

Hemery did not want to be more informative than that about the circumstances of the meetings. The worst of her accusations were based on guesses, after all, but she counted on him to give something away. Anyway, even if nothing had happened between them, his behavior was still inappropriate.

"If you don't want to make this more painful than it needs to be, then admit it," she said.

Lord Fíli had the decency to look away.

"Wait, a minute," Lord Kíli piped up, a lopsided smile on his face. "You didn't—?" He peeked at his brother's averted face. "Oh, suck an elf, _you did_!" Lord Kíli suddenly guffawed.

"Just_ don't_, Kee," Lord Fíli said, frowning. "Not now."

Hemery was staring at them, as if they both had a lesser than average intelligence to skull ratio.

"I knew it! What happened to 'oh, no, I'll be a perfect gentleman this time'," Kíli screwed up his eyebrows and spoke in a exaggerated posh voice to impersonate his brother. He could hardly hold back his laughter. "Class act, brother. That's why I was supposed to come with you, remember? You begged me to not leave you alone with her." Kíli snorted. "Fat lot of good that did—"

"Will you _shut up_?" Lord Fíli exclaimed, finally turning to glare at his brother.

Kíli ignored him, focused on Hemery now.

"How did _you_ know? I didn't even know, and I'm his brother, he tells me everything. Well, he used to."

His attention bounced back and forth like he was having two conversations at the same time. Kíli crossed his arms in indignation towards at Fíli.

"I noticed there was something bugging you these last few weeks, but I thought it was just the wild oats trying to break out of that frustrated, blue cage of theirs."

Kíli pointed a curious finger at Hemery.

"Did Hanah tell you herself, or are you some kind of witch?"

Kíli peered closely at her.

"She didn't tell me anythin'." Hemery stood straight with her shoulders back like Dwalin had taught her, ignoring Kíli's close scrutiny. "She keeps it to herself, like she's ashamed."

Lord Fíli met her eyes then, his expression troubled.

"I'm not very fond of you," Hemery said. "I think you do what you want, and everything you do is for your own gain, like every other man, and I don't think Hanah needs any of you—never have. That being said—"

She paused and took a strengthening breath.

"I demand you offer marriage to Hanah."

"_You what_?" Kíli burst out, surprised.

Hemery had guessed what had happened with Hanah and Graham. She knew they were supposed to be married, then he broke it off, and shortly afterwards Hanah had lost a child. Hemery was not unaware of the procedure of childmaking. She had seen enough calving at Blackwater to figure it out. And she would be damned if she let Hanah be used that way again, and forced to go through even one more of those painful, bloody days.

Hanah was under a lot of stress, from their journey here, to the demanding orders, to making sure they were both clothed, fed, and had a warm bed to sleep in. She was exhausted, and obviously not thinking clearly since she allowed this nonchalant dwarf to seduce her. Well, it would not be tolerated while Hemery drew breath. She needed to take care of Hanah.

"It's what should happen in these circumstances, and it _will_ happen this time. It's also what your plan have been all along, you just haven't told her."

Here Lord Fíli found his tongue. "What would you know of my intentions?"

"It's all in here," Hemery said triumphantly, showing him the library book.

He snatched it from her hand and leafed through it. _The Ethics, Morality, and Virtue of Dwarves_. It was a very slim book.

Hemery went on. "It says all about how dwarves show their wealth to the one they court. They give them presents, food, rare special things to show how good they are."

"This I remember," Kíli said to his brother. He began counting on his fingers. "You ordered that bathtub for her, and sent her paint for her sketches. Oh—and one of those funny, timekeeping clocks from the Shire."

Kíli looked at Hemery apologetically.

"I tried to tell him you wouldn't want it. They say it's supposed to help you plan your time, but all it does is tell you exactly how late you are to everything—with annoying accuracy. Completely useless. And that weird _tik-tok-tik-tok_—"

"I know, it drives me bonkers," Hemery reluctantly agreed, clearly unimpressed by the fancy present. "It's in a drawer in the shop and it still keeps us up at night,"

"So, yeah, you're busted, Fee," Kíli concluded and returned to his drink.

Lord Fíli stared daggers at his brother, crumpled the book in his large hand, and began to pace restlessly.

"You will propose to her," Hemery stated, "and if she agrees, everythin' will work out. But if you don't, and you keep meetin' her in secret—I will make sure you never see her again." Her eyes bore into him. "And don't think I can't," she added between clenched teeth.

"Oy, just hold up a moment!" Lord Fíli stopped his pacing and met her glare. "I don't appreciate being accused and dictated to like this."

He paused, taking a breath.

"Yes, it's true. I have been seeing your sister, but I have _not _dishonoured her." His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes grew dark.

"You don't have to. It's enough that you're seen goin' to our house time and time again for people to talk."

"I don't care," he dismissed with a wave of his hand and continued to pace restlessly. "Let them talk what they will. They wouldn't dare slander her, I'll banish anyone who tries."

"It won't matter. They'd all know that she's your—"

"_Do not speak it!_" Suddenly he was in front of her, a forbidding finger pointed in her face.

They stared at each other. Hemery did not need to expand her argument, she had made her point.

Lord Fíli exhaled and his shoulders slumped as he turned toward the fireplace.

"I don't think she'll have me," he said after a long moment. "She doesn't think she will ever marry, because of her station, because she doesn't deem it's worth it, because she doesn't have to."

"Well, that's true, isn't it?" Kíli said. "She doesn't have to. She can live the rest of her life as a respectable citizen. Absorbed in her work. It's the dwarven way. Admirable, I would say."

"Of course," Fíli replied. "She has proven that she can manage perfectly well on her own, but. . . she's vulnerable. Much more than she thinks. She is content, for now, when the relief from the escape from Blackwater is still fresh in her mind. She's grateful for what she has, but will not reach for more. When Hemery grows up and have her own life, Hanah will be alone, and even her short years will seem like an eternity."

Fíli stared into the fire, pensive.

"She's young. She cannot see it. She is without desire. Doesn't want anything, doesn't need anything. I don't think she wants me enough to say yes. And if she would agree, it would be out of a sense of obligation, not because she actually wished it."

Hemery rolled her eyes behind his back. "Poor you."

Kíli choked on his drink, hiding a smile behind his hand. Fíli turned to frown at her.

"You got yourself into this mess. This is the way out," Hemery said. "It's what you want, right?"

He looked back into the flames. "Aye."

"Then you will _ask_ her. Tell her all those things you just said. If I can get it, she will too. Just tell her the truth."

Hemery snatched the book from his hand and turned to leave, but paused by the door.

"And no more 'visits' until you do," she added.


	18. Chapter 18 - Unexpected Witness

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: marulk, sarah0406, huntressofartemis101, InezSophia, FeeKilico, Filifamilias, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, reader825, Vanafindiel, and Anne79!

Props to FlyingHampsterOfDoom for recognizing the 10th Kingdom reference in ch17!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

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Chapter 18 - Unexpected Witness

* * *

Hanah could kick herself, she was so angry. She had been busy in the shop all day with people coming in to buy shoelaces, belts, or bracelets before the celebration of the equinox started, so she had not had time to deliver the last coats to Lord Fíli like she promised. The one job that could actually kill her entire business if she screwed it up—and she was late. All because Hemery had attended class instead of the shop. Hanah should never have allowed it.

Though, honestly, she was mostly angry at herself for getting distracted by Lord Fíli. When he was not in her home demanding her attention, he was in her head, doing the same.

Hanah's stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him again, that she might do so in a few moments. He would say something to let her know he had been thinking about her, and she would make him laugh. He would admire her work and approve, to a degree. Then he would make suggestions for improvements, even though he had overseen the whole procedure and never once interfered. Or he would comment on something else, her health, her education—or both—and imply she should take better care of herself.

Hanah gritted her teeth, but assured herself he would not demand changes on the coats. It would be fine, really. He would pay what he owed and maybe place a new order if she was lucky.

She was grateful for the small surge of annoyance. It would make it easier for her to keep her head when she saw him, and not get so carried away by his smiles and warm hands.

Lord Fíli had visited her on his own twice now, but she still could not be sure of what to expect when she arrived. He was always smiles and teasing, it made her uncertain. Every time, the confidence she had gained from their last encounter faded and had to be rebuilt when they met, like nothing had happened. Well, not_ nothing_. The tension was always there. It made her shy. After all, she had not known him very long.

It was early evening. The sun crawled over the horizon, clinging its orange fingers to the mountain top. She sun warmed Hanah's back as she entered Erebor.

Like last time, no one stopped her on her way to Lord Fíli's study. But, like before, the statue like guards followed her movements with their eyes from their positions at every doorway. She kept her steps determined and her chin high.

There was no answer when she knocked on the door by the red tapestry, but she knew he expected her and she was not about to ask the guards to take the coats, so Hanah entered Lord Fíli's chambers anyway.

The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, but there was no other sign of life. The door to the adjacent rooms was open, and she could see the other doors were as well. She walked through to the wardrobe room.

Someone had been in a hurry to dress this morning, she noticed, or had been searching for something, because the wardrobes were gaping and some clothes littered the floor.

Hanah unpacked the coats and hung them on unused hangers. They had become a bit flat and bent from being rolled and pressed together in her bag, so she spent a while tugging and bending them back into shape, and triple checking them for any flaws.

Suddenly she heard a sound. A faint noise from somewhere. She froze in her movements. Had Lord Fíli returned? No, there were no footsteps.

The noise was repeated. A voice, Hanah realized. It came from the third door, the wetroom. But it was not speaking to her. It was not speaking at all, actually. It was more like a whimper of pain.

It was not Hanah's place to interfere in others' homes, but she was there, and something may be wrong. She thought she might be able to help, especially since this was Lord Fíli's rooms. But as she heard the sound a third time, she could tell it was a female voice.

Hanah pushed open the door to the bathroom, carefully. Everything in there looked exactly as she had seen it before. It was empty and the lanterns unlit. The door on the other side was open a few inches, casting a ray of warm light on the floor towards her. She stepped silently on the marble in her soft leather shoes to glance through the crack.

The light was dim, but it looked like a bedroom much like the one by the wardrobe room. A woman was lying on her back on the furs. She seemed to be in a state of high fever or a nightmare, a moan broke from her lips, rising and falling, like waves against the shore. Her legs were bent, her feet resting flat on the bed.

Suddenly, her dress shifted, billowed as if moved by a wind, or a snake coiling between her skin and her skirt. Ice water flooded Hanah's veins and she drew a startled breath, before she realized the woman was not alone. Not a snake, but hands which were not hers appeared on the woman's naked hips, and in the shadows next to the bed, Hanah made out a shape.

The ice which had not subsided returned like the tide to flood her chest, as she recognized the scene in front of her. It was an exact copy of her and Lord Fíli's actions, only it had been on her kitchen table.

Lord Fíli?

The woman's breathing sped up until she seemed to almost choke on the air, gasping and writhing on the bed. Hanah wanted to leave, to run from the room and forget she ever saw any of it, forget how she could connect it to her own experience, burn out her eyes, vomit away the memory of her taste on his lips, but she could not look away.

Through the narrow crack in the door, Hanah saw the woman calm and quieten down. As she sat up, Hanah recognized the dwarven woman with auburn hair. It was Sethie, who had served Lord Fíli's dinner. The dinner she had shared with him.

Sethie adjusted her skirts over her knees and suddenly yelped.

"Stop it." Her voice was light in the reprimand. Her laugh mingled with a male one and her companion came into view as he stood.

The first thing Hanah noticed were the unruly waves of dark hair on his head. A wave of relief washed over her, and she put a hand over her mouth to stop any sound. The ice in her chest drained away, leaving her an empty shaking shell. She felt light-headed.

It was only Kíli.

He came to stand behind Sethie, kissing the back of her neck and squeezed her breasts over her tunic while she attempted to fix her clothes. He was only wearing trousers and boots. Dark hair covered his arms, chest and stomach, coming together in smooth lines in the middle. He even had some on his back, which was broad like an ox's.

He said something low in Sethie's ear. She slipped out of his grasp.

"Good evening, Prince Kíli," she laughed before leaving.

As soon as the door closed, Kíli began untying the fastenings of his trousers, and Hanah was released from her spell. She hurriedly turned to leave as quickly and unnoticed as she had entered Lord Fíli's rooms, which she now realized were joined to those of his brother.

In her haste, her shirt sleeve caught on the handle of a water pitcher. She saved it before it tumbled to the floor, but while trying to find her balance her foot kicked the stand on which it stood. The metal feet scraped unforgivingly against the stone floor with a grating hiss.

"Fee?" Kíli called from beyond the door.

Hanah hurried across the room on quick feet, snatched her pack from the floor in the wardrobe room, and shot through the rooms towards the exit. Her hand closed around the door handle.

"Hanah?" Kíli's voice came from behind her.

She froze, breathed, and turned. Lord Kíli watched her from the other side of the room.

"M'lord," she managed to squeak.

Lord Kíli seemed completely unbothered by his bare torso and came closer, a curious expression on his face. Hanah's face, however, burned hot with embarrassment and she looked away.

"I was just hangin' Lord Fíli's coats in his wardrobe and. . .was just leaving."

He looked behind him towards the wardrobe room.

"Ah," he said, smirking. He rubbed his fingertips on his brow, and the smirk turned into a smile. "Never had an audience before. Except maybe that once. . ." He looked thoughtful.

"I swear I didn't mean to—" Hanah shut her eyes tightly, as if to erase the memory of the sight by not refusing to look at him now. "I was just there and then I heard a noise and I didn't know what was going on until. . . I'm so sorry, m'lord."

He laughed. "Relax." He dismissed her apology with a wave. "You'd think you had witnessed a crime or something. It's perfectly normal."

"Normal, m'lord?" She glanced at him.

"To enjoy a female in the afternoon," he shrugged, carefree. He lit up and continued. "As part of the celebration of the equinox, if you will. It would not be the first time, nor the last I daresay, a dwarf have been caught with his hand in the jar of sweets, so to speak."

Hanah flushed, and stuttered. "I—I really wouldn't know."

"It's no big deal," he assured her.

"So, you and Sethie. . . ?" she began uncertainly.

"Have an understanding," he filled in and smiled.

"An understanding, as in. . . an engagement?"

"No, no." He searched for the words. "A. . . temporary, mutually beneficial arrangement."

Hanah's cheeks flared hot once more. Was she one of those—how was it Dwalin had said it?

"Is she," she lowered her voice, "a lady of. . . pleasure?"

"_No_, dear Hanah. We simply enjoy each other's company, physically, from time to time. Neither has been promised anything, not money nor marriage. I don't know about Miss Sethie, but I do it because I want to. And I can," he added, shrugging.

His revelation struck her chord in a bad way. It sounded far too familiar and left a foul taste in her mouth. Hanah had not thought much about it, but comparing her situation to Sethie's now, she did not like what she saw.

"Are you not worried it will get complicated? That she might think your relationship is something more?"

"I'm no paragon of virtue, but I'm no liar either. I don't make promises I don't intend to keep and if they want to put me on a throne of roses and moonlight wishes, that's their choice."

Lord Kíli made a very good point. If no promises were made, there were no reason to think he did anything wrong. And Hanah had not been under the impression that Lord Fíli had any plans at all for the two of them. Of course not. Not when she was what she was, and he was. . . What had Sethie said to Kíli?

_Prince_ Kili.

But that could just as well be a saying, an expression. An exaggerated joke between a woman and her employer with whom she has an open, casual, physical relationship with—surely?

Hanah knew there were princes in Erebor. They were nephews of King Thorin Oakenshield. Two of them. _Brothers_, to be precise. Now Hanah grew light-headed for a whole new reason.

She tried to view the situation from an outside perspective. Had she actually just seen a prince of Erebor in a sexual situation with one of his servants? Lord Kíli—_Prince _Kíli—could put her in chains, banished, or. . . she did not know what, but certainly something worse than that for even implying such a thing, and she had _seen_ it! And he knew!

Hanah's stomach flipped.

And she herself had been in the same exact situation with his brother.

Double flip.

This was what they did. Princes of Erebor could do what they wished. And obviously did, judging by what Kíli had just said. He had enjoyed women before. _Them_ he said_._ As in _several_. _Many_. And to be completely honest, Fíli had told her as much himself.

Hanah met Kíli's gaze head on, to show she was as unaffected by the conversation as possible.

"You make a good point. Can't argue with that." She nodded and tried to smile. "Well, I'll not disturb you any longer." She opened the door and stepped out, but swung it open again. "Sorry, again," she threw into the room.

Lord Kíli laughed. "Always a pleasure, Miss Hanah."

Hanah did not go home straight away. She walked through the halls of Erebor, she did not know how long. It was not until she heard the blowing of horns up ahead that she raised her head to see where she was.

She was in the middle of a crowd of people, dwarves and men, who moved slowly together along a big corridor, like logs on a river, towards the tall opening to the throne room.

Of course, the celebration. She was invited. All crafters working for the jubilars were invited. As were key members of the merchant's guild, the blacksmiths guild, and the masons who were working on the new and improved Erebor. The restoration was still going, twenty years after the dwarves' return to the mountain. The rest of the citizens of Erebor and Dale celebrated in their homes, at the Inn's, or in the streets.

The autumn equinox was the start of the twenty year jubilee of the return to Erebor. The opening ceremony was just beginning.

There was some kind of music in the air unlike any Hanah had ever heard before. Horns sounded, low and resounding as if from somewhere far away, from deep in the mountain. She could feel the vibrations in her chest. Muted drums rolled like thunder on a distant horizon. Sharper horns and trumpets joined in, creating a wall of sound from the lowest to the highest note, moving up and down, passing each other, merging into new patterns. A rhythm of metal clashing against each other echoed like hammers in a forge.

Hanah was drowning in the beautiful sound. Slowly, she walked around the crowd, behind the pillars that rose along the sides, trying to find the source of the sound. Every other pillar marked the entrance to more rooms and halls connected to the throne room. The whole city was like a huge labyrinth. Aside from guards around every corner, she could see nothing of the instruments or those who played. Perhaps they were on the balconies overhead which she could not see.

The last note of the music faded and died in the expanse of the halls. On the platform at the far end of the room, a procession of dwarves appeared from a side door. Four came to stand to the right of the throne, five to the left, and three in front of the thrones in the middle.

Hanah felt her stomach do that thing again. She had been stressed out of her mind all day to finish the order. In combination with her more than awkward discussion with Kíli, it left her nerves completely frayed.

She could not make out the princes faces, but she saw that one was dark and one was fair.

A dwarf dressed in what Hanah had come to know as the official uniform of the royal guard, black tunic and trousers with a white banner covering his torso picturing a mountaintop with a star above it, turned to the crowd from his place on the platform. The crowd stilled.

"Citizens and comrades of Erebor. King Thorin welcomes you to the twentieth celebration of the rebirth of the Lonely Mountain."

He raised his spear and let it fall to the floor with a bang.

Then King Thorin began to speak, a rumbling growl of a voice which Hanah paid little mind. In the shadows of the pillars and the other guests, she crept closer to the platform to get a better look at the princes.

When she reached the last pillar, she thought she saw the fair prince turn his head in her direction. She quickly ducked behind the black stone column.

What was she doing? Hanah dug her nails into the palms of her closed fists. She was invited, she should not be embarrassed to have a good view of the jubilars. But she could not help it.

Slowly, she looked around the pillar. Inch by inch, the platform came back into view. There was King Thorin finishing his speech.

". . .let us not remember the beast who plagued this land, but the people who survived it."

An ear deafening roar of cheers and applause erupted from the audience as Hanah peeked at the king and his nephews. When others around her brought their hands up to clap and wave, she used her hands to cover her mouth in astonishment. She stared.

It was him. It was them, both of them. Prince Fíli and Prince Kíli.

How could she have spoken to them so many times and never realized who they were? She cursed her own lack of observation.

Then again, she had been very busy all summer. She had hardly taken the time to talk to anyone besides her employer, Dwalin, and Hemery. She barely exchanged pleasantries about the weather with the butcher, and definitely did not trade gossip at the bakers. How would she know anything about politics or high members of government in Erebor, much less what the royal family _looked like_?

Well, for one thing, _he_ could have told her! _Lord_ Fíli. How many times had she spoken the words? Why had he not corrected her? That was why his brother and mother always seemed so bemused whenever she said his name. They must have thought she was a half-wit.

What must _he_ have thought? Probably had a hearty laugh about it, listening to her make a fool out of herself, talking to him like she had—_talking back_ like she had. She never would have risen to his baits, she never would have given him cheek, had she known he was a damned prince of Erebor.

_Stupid._ She could hit her head bloody against the stone column.

She would have been more careful. She would have walked on eggshells. She would not have been so familiar, so honest. And she would not have kissed him or let him do any of. . . _those things_ he had done.

Anger rose in Hanah.

And he should not have done it! He should not have spread her on the table in her cottage, played with her like she was some flimsy shepherdess he had found and taken in from the road side. He should not have made her think he cared about her.

Now Hanah grew angry at herself. Her eyes stung.

Of course, she had not thought they would. . . marry or anything. That would have been ridiculous. He had not made her think that. But she realized now, in this very moment, that she _had_ hoped it had been something other than a temporary, mutually beneficial arrangement.

It had not entered her mind before just how replaceable and insignificant she truly was. One of _them_. One of his women.

Hanah remembered Graham. He had picked her because he thought she could add to his fortune, he had shared her bed, and disappeared, still leaving her feeling like she was the one who was false. It would not be fair to compare Fíli to Graham. Fíli had not promised anything. Any fancy about his character or their relationship were totally weaved together by her, and her alone. She had known it would lead to complications, and she had received him anyway. . . because she had _wanted_ it. She still wanted it. She wanted him.

Would Fíli be pleased to know she had finally allowed herself to want something?

Hot tears escaped her eyes, which she quickly wiped away with her shirtsleeve. She was so angry, at him, at herself, because she wanted something she could not have. Because princes do not fall in love with daughters of trappers. Dwarf or no dwarf.

Had Hanah not been so focused on their faces, she would have noticed what the royal family and their companions were wearing. Whether her heart or mind would have softened at the sight of her work resting on the backs of the heroes of Erebor, no one would ever know.


	19. Chapter 19 - Unexpected Viola

Thank to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: FeeKilico, Filiafamilias, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Akiluna, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, jennlit, Vanafindiel, InezSophia, marulk, ochi2, Rhyska Nevar, Skywolf42!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

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Chapter 19 - Unexpected Viola

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Hanah was brutally awakened by a pounding fist on the door.

"What in the bloody halls of Mahal is that?" Hanah asked, groggy from sleep. "What's so fuckin' urgent? Has The Dragon returned?"

She pulled herself up, throwing a blanket around her shoulders and padded quickly barefoot on the cold stone floor. Hemery stayed in bed, rubbing her eyes.

Hanah looked out through the dusty window. Dwalin was on the other side. She turned the heavy iron key in the lock just as he was about to continue his pounding.

She only opened it enough to glare at Dwalin through the crack. She did not know the time. It was light out, but the sun had not shown itself above the horizon. She could see mist hovering over the grass.

"What is it?" Hanah could not contain her annoyance.

"That how ye open the door? Half-asleep and half-naked?" he asked, disapproval clear in his voice.

What was he moaning about? She looked down at herself. She was in her nightshirt which reached almost all the way to her ankles, and the blanket was down to her knees. And she had seen it was him through the window.

"What if somethin' had happened, and I was bleedin' to death on yer doorstep? Accosted by bandits, my house burnin' to the ground?"

Hanah leaned on the door frame, closing her eyes and sighed. If that had happened, all at once, she doubted there was anything she could have done.

"_Is_ somethin' wrong?" she asked patiently.

"No, but ye didn't know that when ye opened the door, now did ye?"

Hanah rubbed her face, trying to come awake.

"Is this a test?"

"No, just a wake up call. Get yer sister up, we're goin' out."

"Out where?"

Dwalin ignored her question. "Make some breakfast to eat on the road, and send the wee one out when she's dressed."

Hanah sighed.

Normally, she would have said she did not have time, but she actually did. She had finished the big order yesterday. She could do with some time away from the shop. And Dwalin had been good to them, it would not hurt to indulge him for a day.

"Alright," she muttered. She closed the door, but did not lock it this time. Padding back to the bedroom, she shook Hemery lightly.

"It's too early. The magpies aren't even up yet," Hemery grumbled, and buried her face into her pillow.

"Dwalin wants our help with something today. Get dressed and go out to him."

Hemery forced herself to sit up, steadying herself on her arms as if she was exhausted and on her way _to_ bed, not the other way around.

They washed in cold water and dressed in yesterday's clothes. Hemery joined Dwalin in the yard, still yawning, and Hanah boiled eggs and fried ham to eat with bread on the way. One sandwich for her, one for Hemery, and five for Dwalin. When Hanah had finished packing the breakfast, she put on her coat and a scarf before leaving the house. It was still early, and the late September chill would cling to her ears until long after the sun was up.

She could hear thumping and hacking from behind Dwalins house. When she turned the corner, the grass already softening her boots with dew, she noticed Hemery on their knees, digging in the dark soil. Dwalin stood next to her, holding a small bucket.

"Are you diggin' for worms?" Hanah asked, keeping her chin inside her thick, warm scarf.

"The ground is cold," Hemery stated, and flexed her fingers. Hanah could see they were red beneath the black dirt.

They used to fish with worms in Blackwater, but always in the summer when the ground was soft.

"That's enough," Dwalin said, sifting through the bucket.

Hemery wiped her hands on the wet grass before standing up.

Dwalin handed them each a fishing rod, swung his axes onto his back, and picked up his own bag.

"Let's go," he said, and led them down a path in the opposite direction of Dale.

Through the thin pine forest, they followed the small trail on a slight down hill slope. They could hear the river rushing to their left. The sun rose before them, turning the clouds pink, and cast long beams of light between the trees on the last mist of the morning.

They ate sandwiches wrapped in paper. Hanah handed Dwalin one after the other, exchanging the sandwich for the paper of the last one, which she stuffed back into her bag.

They entered a particularly dense part of the forest. The underbrush growing thicker and they had to raise their bags and rods high above the bushes to not get caught in them.

"Deer use this path when they go up and down the mountain in the summers. That's why it looks like a labyrinth of dozens of small trails on the forest floor," Dwalin informed them. "Should ye ever get lost in them, just continue upwards, ye'll get to Dale eventually."

"Why don't you fish in the river by your house?" Hanah asked.

They got out on the other side of the bushes and came to stand on a boulder overlooking a part of the river which slowed and widened into a small lake before spilling down a waterfall on the other end. Pines closed in the lake in a half-circle, leaving the view beyond the waterfall unfiltered. Hanah could see all the way down to Esgaroth and the forest changing colour to autumn from their vantage point. The trees slowed the wind around the lake, and the sun had just begun to warm their faces.

"That's why," Dwalin replied, and dumped his bag heavily on the boulder. He seemed confident the mirror surface of the lake and the view spoke for themselves.

Hanah loved the Lonely Mountain. It was so quiet and serene where they were. Their house at Blackwater had also been quiet, but Hanah had never felt the peace which she felt here. Despite Dale and Erebor with their myriad of inhabitants, she felt safe and secluded.

And, of course, Dwalin was there. Hanah would feel safe anywhere with Dwalin.

He sat on the edge of the rock, dropping his line with the worm in the water below. It was so dark and deep that the girls could see their own reflection when they looked down. Rather than sitting with their feet dangling like Dwalin, Hanah spread out a wool blanket for them to sit on. The rock would cool them down quick if they were to sit still directly on the damp stone. It was autumn after all, and they were going to be outdoors all day.

It did not stop Dwalin from dropping a remark.

"Fragile and thin like straw dolls. If a puff of air pushed ye over the ledge, ye wouldn't even fall in—ye'd float away on the wind like butterflies."

"And if you slipped on some wet rocks with those ridiculous steel toed boots, you'd sink like a stone," Hanah offered her contrasting perspective.

Dwalin merely grunted in reply.

They were silent for a long time, only hearing the sound of the water lapping against the rocks, and the swallows chirping as they sailed through the air, sometimes so close to the water they skimmed the surface with their forked tails.

Hemery caught two. Hanah caught one, but it slipped off the hook before she could haul it in. Dwalin caught six before the sun had reached its peak.

"How come you're always better at _everythin'_?" Hemery complained, when he hauled the seventh.

"Experience, discipline, and finesse," he said simply, cut the fish open and removed its guts in one pull.

"But you just sit there letting the hook do the same thing ours' do. How can you be better at doin' nothin'?" Hemery asked, astounded.

"Perhaps ye should have dug up better bait?" He did not look at Hemery, seemingly focused on his task, but Hanah could see the barely contained smirk on his face.

"It's just luck," Hanah stated, trying to sound nonchalant. "That, or he gives us the dead worms the fish don't care about."

Hanah gathered some branches from the riverbank and made a fire. Hemery whittled some sticks into skewers they could use to grill the fishes Dwalin had gutted. The old driftwood burned quickly down to embers good enough to cook fish on.

"You're not workin' at all today?" Hanah asked the dwarf.

"Not with the madness goin' on in town," he said, spitting into the fire with what Hanah suspected was more derision than dirt on his tongue.

"Hanah was invited to the ceremony," Hemery said.

"Aye, I don't doubt it," Dwalin said, nodding and smirking, but not expanding on his thoughts.

"How was it?" Hemery asked.

Filled with anxiety and panic, Hanah thought.

"I was only there a short while."

"What did you see?"

Hanah pushed the image of Prince Kíli in his bedroom out of her mind, and remembered the grand room and all the people, how happy everyone had seemed.

"There was music. Wonderful, loud, strange music I had never heard before. And hundreds and hundreds of people listening to King Thorin welcomin' everybody and sayin' how important the day was and all that."

Dwalin snorted. "It's just an excuse for people to drink more and work less."

"Like we're doin' right now?" Hanah asked, lying back and crossing her ankles, making herself more comfortable while they waited for the fish.

He glared at her smiling face.

"It's a major health and safety hazard," he said, his gritted teeth making clear it was no laughing matter.

"The citizens drink themselves into a stupor every weekend, if not every night of the festival, allowing for violence and robberies fifty times worse than any other time of the year. The guard should be increased five times over, for Durin's Day alone. If somethin' were to happen, Mahal forbid," he touched his chest and head in a gesture warding off bad luck, "Erebor would not stand a chance in its current state."

He shook his head as he poked the embers thoughtfully.

Hanah had seen big celebrations at Blackwater, dancing, drinking and the occasional fight, but nothing as large-scale as the anniversary of Erebor. She could only imagine what it could be like in the thick of it.

"Then why do they have it?" Hemery asked.

"To keep the people happy," Dwalin said. "They need days to celebrate the greatness of their kingdom, or they will crumble under the weight of a strict ruler. The king needs to be harsh to keep the peace, but if he doesn't give them reason to come together for feasts, they will shatter anyway. Old sorrows and new hardships will overwhelm them and cracks will form in the foundation of the mountain."

He moved some embers with his bare fingers to increase the carpet of heat for their lunch.

"And then they might project their shortcomings on their leader, and decide they want another king. And the king wants to stay king, always."

Dwalin opened the fish to see if it was cooked through.

"What happened with you and the king?" Hemery asked.

He growled. "Is it too much to ask to let me eat before ye start the interrogation?"

Hanah and Hemery shared a smile at his indignation, while he divided the fish for them.

The meat came off the bones in white, chunky layers which they ate with their hands. When Dwalin was finishing his last morsel, he began speaking without being bid.

"Twenty years ago, I deliberately kept a piece of information from Thorin. And when he found out. . . he dismissed me from his service."

"What was it?" Hanah asked. The girls sat up straight, looking at the dwarf over the low glow of the fire.

"Somethin' personal, about. . . a certain lady." He coughed and avoided their gaze, brushing the remnants of fish skin from his leather trousers.

The sisters had never heard him confess anything as private as this before. Hanah hardly dared speak, but she was too curious.

"Was she. . . _his_ lady?" she asked, carefully.

"In a sense. It was his sister."

Hanah's eyes widened. Fíli's mother?

"Were you and her. . . ?" Hemery left the question hanging, but she did not have to finish it for him to stop it right there.

"None of yer business," Dwalin barked. "And none of his either. 'Course, Thorin didn't see it that way.

"So you haven't spoken in twenty years?" Hanah asked.

"No." He took a drink from his water bottle and pushed the cork back with a decisive _pop_.

"And that's why you don't live in the mountain?" Hemery asked.

Dwalin did not answer. He did not have to.

"The mountain wasn't big enough for the two of you?" Hanah smirked.

"He started it," Dwalin grumbled, childishly.

"Nah. . ." Hanah trailed off. "Sounded like _you_ started it, actually."

"It wasn't a problem until he made one. He overreacted—like he always does," Dwalin drew out the vowels in exaggerated boredom, while shaking his head. He accentuated his speech by throwing out a big arm dramatically, like he was shoving the thought aside with his hand, emphasizing his view on the king's antics as unreasonable and not worthy of further investigation.

"The king stays the king, even with his own family and friends, because he's as stubborn as—"

"—As an old goat!" Hemery finished with him, triumphantly, in a loud chorus.

All three of them broke into laughter around the fire. Hanah had trouble catching her breath and could only manage a high-pitched birdlike laugh, while Hemery made small coughs and smiled broadly, happy to have made the others so merry. Dwalin boomed a loud laugh which echoed in the clearing and seemed to shake the trees around them as some doves took flight from their resting place, disturbed by the sudden sound.

Dwalin pulled out a rectangular box from his bag and put it on his lap.

"Enough talk of that miserable bastard," he drawled comically in his heavy accent. "Give us a song, lasses," he said, lifting a viola from the case. He began to strum it lightly and tighten the strings.

Hanah was so surprised by the revelation that he could play a musical instrument, that her mind stood still and could not produce any lyrics at all.

"Ehm. . . what would you like to hear?" she asked.

Hemery was no help, only looking at her sister in anticipation.

"Anythin'," Dwalin said, simply. "I'll catch up."

"The witch's song," Hemery encouraged and shook her hand up and down.

"Only if you help," Hanah said. Her sister nodded.

It was one of the songs she had learned in Blackwater. Dwalin would probably not know it, but the melody was simple and repeated itself. All songs she knew were rhymed things which were designed to be easy to learn and remember.

Hanah began to sing, and Hemery chimed in on the third and last line in every verse—the only ones she knew by heart.

A girl tread in the queen's yard

She wished to weave gold for the lady

Roses and lilies I am from

A girl invited to the queen's yard

They wished she wove gold for the lady

From the valleys whence I come

True enough, after only one verse Dwalin was able to follow the tune wonderfully, making impulsive sways when he changed from one note to the other.

With the first strike on the loom

She wove in sky, wove in earth

Roses and lilies I am from

With the second strike on the loom

She wove in home, wove in hearth

From the valleys whence I come

With the third strike on the loom

She wove in father, wove in mother

Roses and lilies I am from

With the fourth strike of the loom

She wove in sister, wove in brother

From the valleys whence I come

There was joy in the queen's hall

Grander weave no one had seen

Roses and lilies I am from

The girl stayed at the queen's call

No place she had rather been

From the valleys whence I come

The magic spell in the night

Weave replaced the queen for she

Roses and lilies I am from

So exchanged was royal might

Girl graced with crown and key

From the troll hills whence I come

The afternoon became early evening before they returned home through the shadowy forest. Though they heard foxes barking in the distance and some small animals scurried in the bushes and up the trees, Hanah was not worried.

They were with Dwalin.


	20. Chapter 20 - Unexpected Frost

Thank you to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: FeeKilico, jennlit, Skywolf42, Vanafindiel, InezSophia, blaahblaahblaah, Anne79!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 20 - Unexpected Frost

* * *

When the butter was delivered the next morning, it was by Fíli himself. Hemery answered the door.

"Good morning, Hemery." Fíli smiled, offering the wrapped package.

"Mornin'." She did not move out of the way or invite him in.

"Is your sister up?"

"The sun is over the tree line, of course she's up."

"May I come in and see her?" he patiently asked.

"If you have business, you may see her at the market in an hour."

Right then, Hanah came around the corner, carrying fresh water from the well. Her steps faltered as she noticed the prince, but she did not stop.

"Oh," she said. "Good mornin'."

"Morning, Miss Hanah." He smiled and bowed his head.

Hanah would have done the same had she not been weighed down by her bucket. Hemery let her pass into the kitchen.

"Come in," Hanah told him. "Sit down."

Fíli shared a look with Hemery behind Hanah's back, she glaring, him challenging. Hemery moved. He handed the butter to Hanah.

"Thank you. That's very kind." Hanah, in turn, handed it to Hemery who did not look pleased, but took it and placed it in the cupboard.

Hanah made tea. Hemery stood behind her, watching Fíli who sat at the table, seemingly unbothered by her deadly stare.

"Apologies for bein' late with my last delivery," Hanah said. "We had so many customers, I couldn't get away."

He shook his head. "I didn't notice."

Hanah nodded in relief.

"Have you come to pay us?" Hemery asked.

Hanah whirled around. "_Hem?!_" she hissed forcefully.

"Why else is he here?" Hemery asked Hanah, but looked at the dwarf.

"Don't you have class to attend?" Hanah whispered to her sister.

"Not today."

"Actually, that was one of the reasons I came to see you this morning," Prince Fíli said, producing his purse. "Remind me, how much do I owe you?"

Hanah racked her brain. She had already been paid too much. The coats were finished and she still had gold left over. But he would not take no for an answer.

"Sorry, I'd have to check the book—" Hanah began.

"Twelve gold pieces," Hemery answered.

Prince Fíli raised his eyebrows at Hanah in question. It sounded reasonable enough for the last five coats, she thought.

"Yes, that would be right," she confirmed. "Thank you, Hem."

His mustache quirked. He dug into his purse and offered some coins to Hanah, but Hemery was quicker. She shot out to receive them before Hanah had lifted her arm, and swiftly returning to her place behind Hanah. Silence stretched between the two girls and the dwarf.

"Are the bags ready for market?" Hanah asked Hemery.

"Almost. We can leave whenever you want. I have a book to return to the library, as well." Hemery shot Prince Fíli a meaningful look which her sister did not catch. Hanah closed the door behind her.

"I apologize for Hemery's forwardness."

"That's quite alright. I like it. Almost as amusing as the sharp tongue of her sister." Prince Fíli chuckled.

Hanah's stomach heated when she heard the throaty sound.

"So you were happy with the coats?" Hanah changed the subject.

"They fulfilled my expectations," he answered ambiguously.

"Is that so?" Her tone was dry.

He laughed. "I knew you had potential, and there's no greater motivator than doubt. A few less than enthusiastic remarks in your ear and your result is golden," he explained.

"I should have known it would be pointless to expect a reply with more than the least possible information, but I'm glad you think my work is _nice_, Prince Fíli."

Hanah stood to retrieve their cups and realized what she had just said. Her hands turned cold. She forced herself to pretend as if it was nothing. It was no secret, after all.

Fortunately, she had to turn her back to him when she cleaned the cups, giving her an excuse to not meet his gaze.

"I wasn't sure you knew." His voice was low.

She did not now what to say to that. That he had turned her world upside-down these last few days since she found out he was a prince, without him actually doing anything?

"You didn't treat me like a prince, I liked that."

She said nothing. She heard him get up from his chair.

"What is it, Hanah?"

She turned and leaned on the counter. He watched her from a few feet away. That beautiful, open face, those searching eyes, and those hands that knew her so well, which she did not know at all. She tried to shrug casually.

"I just feel stupid, because. . ." She shook her head. "I didn't know. I had no idea until I saw you at the openin' ceremony."

"This doesn't change anything between us," he assured her.

Hanah smiled without joy. "I know you think that, and I understand. You've been perfectly honest and respectful and generous, and I let you in, and I was happy to do so, but we have to stop now."

She tried to sound sober and practical, letting no emotion show through. She did not allow herself to feel any of the hurt that she had brought on herself by her naïve actions. Now it was time to face the consequences of her actions, and put and end to it before it got any worse.

Prince Fíli looked like he did not understand what she was saying.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, steeping closer and pierced her with his inquiring gaze.

Hanah sighed, and felt an increased urge to keep her distance.

"You know as well as I do that we had to, eventually. I've just been ignorin' it until now. We've been. . . killin' time."

"I can't think of a better way of spending my time. Can you?"

He was trying to lighten the mood, but Hanah was physically incapable of smiling anymore. Of course he could be so off-handed about the subject—it was not as serious for him as it was for Hanah. It did not mean anything to him.

"It's time to move on. On to the next," she said, calmly.

"The next what?"

Why did she need to spell it out for him? She had to look away.

"The next girl who wants to catch the attention of a charmin' prince for a few hours. You said it yourself, you've done this before. And I've seen how your brother acts with Sethie."

"My brother. . ." he muttered and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I get it. It's nothin' strange in your world, but I'm not used to it. And it's fine, I never expected anythin' from you. But I don't think we should see each other. . . alone. . . anymore."

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you believe me to be so lacking in honour?" he finally asked.

The question threw her off guard.

"No—?"

"I will not lie and claim to never have visited a woman before, but I certainly don't make it _a habit_. And I will thank you for not comparing me to my brother in all things. We share many traits— _however—_sexual zeal is not one of them." Prince Fíli's voice was scathing.

Hanah felt heat in her cheeks. She had no idea he would react in this way. She had tried to say much in few words, but never question his honour.

"You think I would pursue you in this manner, indefinitely, taking anything and everything you offered?"

Not indefinitely. Hanah had no illusions about the temporary nature of their relationship. She knew it would dry out, sooner or later. But she could not speak, she was struck by the intensity of his words and his indignation which she did not understand.

Suddenly, his anger drained away.

"I never wanted you to think that. It was not my intention. I don't want it to be that way," his words turned persuasive now.

There was that word again. _Want._

If they just kept going, what did he think would happen? Did he not realize how much she had begun to care for him? Did he not see how she trembled when he was near? She would grow more and more dependant on him, live for the short moments he would spare for her. And when he decided he did not want to visit her anymore, she would not be able to let him go.

"It doesn't matter what you or I want. This is just a complication. A waste of time. Can't you see that?"

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. Anger sparked to life in his eyes.

"Have you ever fought for something you wanted?" he asked.

Hanah had fought a lot, too much, for her life and for Hemery's. She _wanted_ to live, if you could say that. But she had a feeling that was not what he meant.

He closed the distance between them and took hold of her face in his large, warm hands.

"Have you ever really wanted anything in your life?"

She wanted him, to laugh with, to hold and never let go. But then there was that shallow want, the physical want driven by the automatic impulse all men had, which she had felt too. She had never wanted a person in this intimate way before, and she would not be a slave for some bodily craving now. She would not jeopardize her current security for a few of his exciting embraces.

Hanah wanted to close her eyes and open them far away from here, away from Blackwater, away from Erebor, away from Prince Fíli. Why could she not be allowed to _just live_?

"There are many different kinds of want," she said.

"_I_ want_ you_, Hanah," Fíli said with fervor. "To keep, to care for, and to bear my children—_that _kind of want."

Now she was completely confused. They were not of the same kin. And he was heir to the throne of Erebor. Was he playing a game of 'name one hundred impossible things' she was unaware of?

"But. . ." she began, brow furrowed. "You can't have children with men." It was a question, really, but it had not come out as such.

Prince Fíli's eyes turned dead cold, and he released her.

"So that's how it is," he seethed. "Glad we cleared that up. I was beginning to think it was my personality that displeased you. I'm relieved to learn it is only because I'm a _dwarf_."

His words were acid as he began to pace the floor restlessly.

"Of course it's part of it—" Hanah had no idea if dwarves and men even could conceive children, much less a dwarven prince and a common woman. She wanted to explain further, but he interrupted her and twisted her words.

"It seems you are, after all, the kind of woman who will take a dwarf's gold, but not his hand." He almost growled.

"That's not fair. You're misunderstandin' me on purpose," Hanah argued. "What would people say if you had children with someone like me?"

She was a poor leathersmith of mankind. What would happen to the bastard child of Prince Fíli of Erebor and the trapper's daughter?

"I don't bloody well care," came his quick response. It seemed he had made up his mind to contradict everything she said.

"You cannot be serious!" Hanah almost shouted. "You must care, you're goin' to be king one day. No one would accept a king with half-breed children."

He became still at her words, and Hanah knew she had made a mistake using such strong language, but she had wanted to prove a point. It seemed she had succeeded. He regarded her with a dark expression.

It was official; she had offended Prince Fíli in every way possible.

Slowly, he moved closer until he was an arms length away. Then his face changed from anger to bewilderment, like he was gazing into a dark well to see if there was any water in its depths.

"How is it that you're so young, and yet. . . so cold?" he asked.

Cold. The word resonated within her. Cold, winter, frost, ice, starvation, death. Did he think she was like that? She was not! She burned. At that very moment, she burned with shame for what she had said, what she had allowed the situation to become, and with need for him to touch her as gently as he had a moment ago when he still liked her.

Hanah burned alright. She felt as if the fire of Smaug would be a cool breeze in comparison with the smolder that boiled her insides and flared out into the skin of her neck and face. How could he think she was cold?

She wanted to explain, if she had dared, what she was thinking. But he seemed to be in the worst mood for conversation and misunderstood everything she said.

No—everything she said was wrong.

"Hanah?" Hemery's careful voice came from the door to the shop, and pulled her out of her thoughts.

Fíli turned from her and moved to the door. As he walked through it, Hanah called after him.

"I'm sorry!"

He did not stop.

Hanah took a few steps, as if to follow him, but changed her mind. What would she say to him? She felt hollow and thin like burnt wood in an old fireplace. All eaten up.

"What happened?" Hemery asked softly.

Hanah hardly knew. But she knew her dealings with Prince Fíli were over, as if they had never begun.

"Nothin'," Hanah breathed. She turned her back to Hemery, so she would not see her tears gathering.

"Did he hurt you?" Hemery's voice was flat, while Hanah tried to keep the quiver out of hers.

"No." Hanah was hurt, but she knew the blame fell on her own shoulders.

"Did he. . . ask you to marry him?"

Hanah turned in surprise, forgetting to hide her tears.

"No," she replied. "Don't be silly. Why would he do that?"

She continued cleaning the dishes from breakfast, pretending nothing was amiss.

Hemery felt the weight of the book in her coat pocket.

"No reason," she said. "Just a thought."


	21. Chapter 21 - Unexpected Drops

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: FeeKilico, Vanafindiel, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, Cosetta P, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Rhyska Nevar, marulk, Filifamilias, lovefanficfan, Skywolf42, and Firverilin!

Special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

Because I have received so many wonderful words from my readers, here is a small chapter posted ahead of time.

* * *

Chapter 21 - Unexpected Drops

* * *

The lit fireplace cast an orange glow on the stone floor of the library. From Hemery's point of view, it appeared as if the floor was water reflecting the flickering firelight.

She followed the bookshelves on the left side, slowing her steps when she neared the place where she remembered the dwarf had retrieved the book. She read the bindings of the books.

_Iron Hill Iron Wrenching: A Thousand Year Craft_. Dwarven industry.

Next shelf. _Granite: Lithification. Oryctognosy. Perimorphism. _Dwarf stones.

Next. _Historiographic Hymns. Khazad Kult_. Dwarf lore.

Getting closer.

Next. _Angerthas Encryption. Gonnhirrim History_.

This shelf would have to do, Hemery thought, pulled the slim volume out of her bag and slid it onto the shelf among the others.

"You're late." The low rumble was almost like a dog's growl.

Hemery spun on the spot. Her bag, which she had slung over her shoulder, pushed up against the nearest shelf, knocking the books down like. . . well, like books on a shelf—each one's weight pushing the next one over the edge and onto the floor.

Hemery recognized the hunched figure sitting in one of the high-backed chairs by the fire, and his coat.

"Still making a nuisance of yourself I see," he said.

"You scared me," she accused. She picked up the books, not bothering to see if they were in the right order, much less right side up.

"Your permission expired two days ago."

"We've been busy with work during the festival. I couldn't get away." Hemery borrowed her sisters defense.

"We're all busy. That's no excuse. When we have an agreement, we try our best to honour that agreement, do we not?"

She could not argue with that. It was exactly what Hanah would have said. She would have liked this dwarf, all principles and clear rules of conduct. But she still did not want to give him right.

"It's just a book," she muttered.

"These books are part of the great legacy of my people." He raised his voice. "They are our memories, they will show us our future, and they will be here long after you and I are gone. They deserve our respect."

"Did you write them?"

"No. Though I have been present at a few writings and rewritings of history."

Silence descended in the large room. The fire crackled. Hemery thought she could almost hear the dust swirling through the air.

"You don't look very busy," Hemery observed.

"The first time in days I have been able to breathe," he spoke low, as if to himself. "Should have known it would not last."

He sighed and looked at her a long moment, something like pain in his expression.

"You do not know how lucky you are, girl. Sitting in your workshop making boot laces."

"I don't?" Hemery asked, confused.

"You may think this festival is just feast and _fun_," he snorted derisively. "It's a theater. We conquered the dragon and the orcs, and now we celebrate our victory on the day we used to honour Durin. It turns my stomach that our ancestors' glory has fallen into the shadow of our enemies."

Listening in awe to the honest voice, Hemery found herself moving closer to the fireplace.

"And I must endure the pollution of their memory. Endure it all. Almost two months of hosting hundreds of strangers in Erebor, feeding them, amusing them, humouring them. Listen to their complaints, requests, _advice_. All attempting to further their own political aims, whether it's trade, taxes, or military alliances. You'd be surprised by how many people do not recognize the word _no_."

Ten fingers on ten people was a hundred fingers. And several hundreds were many more. That was a lot of people.

"Do you really have to listen to all of them?" Hemery asked, carefully.

"Such is the custom. All who seek council must be heard."

Hemery thought it was not fair of the guests to request favours from the king, especially since the guests were given food and diversions during their stay. Even Hemery understood the dwarves would be taken advantage of. And she remembered Dwalin's words about the safety of the kingdom on this holiday.

There had to be a way to prevent the Lonely Mountain from being swarmed like an ant hill every year?

"What if they didn't want to come?" Hemery asked.

The dwarf was roused from his melancholy, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. A deep frown attempted to disguise the curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sayin' Erebor should be unwelcomin' on purpose, but the festival could be more focused on dwarves and what they like. Adding more ceremonies and plays in honour of Durin, not just the usual 'kill the dragon' story. I'm sure that would bore men pretty soon."

The dwarf did not say anything, so she continued.

"Oh—and serve them that strange meat loaf dwarves love so much. They'd be running home to their privies after one day."

Suddenly, the dwarf startled Hemery with a laugh. It was a rough, hoarse bark which soon faded, but she could see white teeth lingering.

"Any other ideas?" he asked.

She leaned on the other chair, thinking.

"Move the festival to the winter. People don't like to travel in the winter, and it would leave October free for Durin's Day."

"And if people object to the rescheduling?"

"Tell them that the real reclaim of Erebor did not occur when The Dragon was killed, but when. . . enough people had settled there for it to be called a city again, or when the king had his first assembly or somethin'. Make somethin' up."

She shrugged.

"Or say the king wishes to move the festival to his birthday or coronation memorial day. That way he'll at least get presents and things in return for puttin' up with the guests. Nobody will say no to the king as long as the dwarves get their festival."

He hummed low, and nodded thoughtfully.

"You should have had a place in the king's council twenty years ago. Perhaps his present outlook would not have been so bleak."

He regarded her a moment.

"Was the literature of aid in your education?"

Hemery frowned in confusion. "The what?"

"The book," he clarified, raising his black eyebrows.

"Oh," Hemery simply said.

Remembering Hanah's and Fíli's abrupt farewell this morning, she looked down awkwardly.

"Not really. It told me what I wanted to know, but it didn't help."

He just looked at her.

"I think I made a big mistake," Hemery confessed weakly. "I interfered in my sister's life and now she's hurtin', because of me."

"Did you use violence on your sister?"

"What? _No_." Hemery curved her lip.

"Did you betray someone's confidence?"

She thought about it. She had not told anyone's secrets which she promised to keep quiet.

She shook her head. "No."

"Then you are not to blame. People have their own will, their own agenda. Everyone is responsible for their own actions."

"I guess."

She was not convinced. That was what she did not like about Hanah's and this dwarf's principles and rules—when it came to real situations they did not apply as clearly and logically as they made it seem.

He sighed. "What's with the doom and gloom? I thought things were good here for you and your sister."

"They were. They _are_. We have a nice home and business is good."

"But?"

"There's a dwarf who comes to see Hanah." The words tumbled out almost all on their own. "In the day, when she's alone."

"And you assume he's not there for boot laces?"

She shook her head slowly from side to side.

"And how do you know this, if she's alone on these visits?" he asked.

"I know my sister."

He levelled her with his gaze, as if he could tell there was more to the story.

"And I talked to him," she confessed. "I think that was my mistake."

"That depends. What did you say?"

"I demanded he propose marriage to her or leave her alone."

He did not laugh like Kíli or look shocked like Fíli. He just looked at her, blankly.

"And what did he choose?"

"Neither."

He considered this.

"There are worse things you could have done. Under the circumstances, I believe you did all you could. If it was my sister, I would have beaten the dog within an inch of his life."

"Really?" she asked, opening her eyes wide, hopeful. Relief flooded her chest. It was a great comfort to know she had not been overreacting in her own impulse to physically harm Fíli for all he had caused Hanah.

"Really," he grunted in affirmation. "You defended your sister's honour. There is no shame in that. So no more sulking, do you hear me?"

Hemery smiled and stood up straight like Dwalin had taught her. She closed her hands behind her back to stop from fidgeting.

"Yes, sir."

"Who is this unworthy dwarf, anyway, whom your sister would be foolish enough to welcome into her home?"

She hesitated. She had already told him what happened. Would it really make much difference if she gave up the other party?

"I swear, no disrepute will befall your sister at my hand," he said when she did not answer.

He had helped her, Hemery thought, and given her advice. He was nice. Well, not _nice_, no dwarves were nice, but an individual who seemed to know right from wrong, as she saw them.

She looked him straight in the eye.

"Lord Fíli," she admitted.

His face grew even more grave, if that were possible. His dark brow shadowed his eyes. Then he stood up. His wide frame was taller than Hemery remembered, she took an unconscious step back.

"I believe my time is up, girl," he muttered tiredly.

She followed him through the doors to the library. He stopped outside.

"Your acquaintance has been. . . informative. I bid you good day."

He turned and walked away. Four of the guards who were standing in a row along the big corridor fell in step with him as he passed.

Hemery did not have time to stand around wondering exactly who the dwarf was. She was supposed to meet Hanah at the market. So she turned and walked the other way.


	22. Chapter 22 - Unexpected Feints

Thanks to everyone who adds, and to my reviewers: sarah0406, Rhyska Nevar, Skywolf42, FeeKilico, Cosetta P, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Firverilin, blaahblaahblaah, Filiafamilias, and Vanafindiel!

Always a special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 22 - Unexpected Feints

* * *

"Why aren't you yellin' at me?" Hemery asked her sister.

"What?" Hanah looked up from her tea. "Why would I yell at you?"

"Because I haven't cleaned the dishes from breakfast, swept the floors, or changed the sheets on the bed, like I said I would."

Hanah just stared at her sister, as if stunned. Hemery continued.

"You didn't say anythin' yesterday either, when I chipped your favourite scalpel on the steel thimble."

"It was an accident." Hanah shrugged.

Hemery frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin."

"Then why aren't you yellin'?" Hemery felt that she was the one yelling, and it was not supposed to be that way. Everything was backwards since Lord Fíli's last visit. Why could Hanah not snap out of it?

"You should be happy I'm not. Yellin's not a good thing, you know. I'm not supposed to yell, ever. I should be a good enough big sister to make you do chores without naggin'."

"It's not just that." Hemery pulled her hair in frustration. "You look for tools you already hold in your hand. You only eat when I'm here. You don't draw. You don't visit Dwalin. It's like you're not _you_ anymore."

"I'm just tired. It's been a long summer. The order from—" Hanah paused for a heartbeat. "The coats really wore me out."

"You've always worked hard—you've never been like this before. What happened?"

Hanah got up from the table.

"Nothin'. Our business is over, that's all. He got his order and we got paid. There; done."

Hemery stilled. She had not asked specifically about Fíli, but Hanah had automatically assumed Hemery had meant him, which proved her mood had indeed something to do with the dwarf.

Hanah had been perfectly normal and healthy during the time they had lived and worked in Dale, during the whole time Hanah had known Lord Fíli. Even before, when they suffered the oppression of the Brages, she had been fine. What had he done to make her so distraught and withdrawn from the moment he sat down in their kitchen to the moment he left and never came back?

"Did you have a fight? Did he say somethin' mean?"

"No." Hanah leaned down to settle the embers in the stove. "Although—" She stopped herself.

"What did he do?" Hemery felt anger boil up within her.

"He didn't do anythin'. It was me." Hanah took a breath, but still avoided her sisters gaze.

Hemery saw Hanah's jaw tense, like it did when she refrained from cursing out loud.

"I just can't seem to do things right. Everywhere I go, I disappoint people."

"What? That's _not true_," Hemery protested in disbelief.

Hanah always tried to do the right thing. She was the best worker Hemery knew, even more focused than Father had been. Yes, he had been skilled, but never as devoted as Hanah. She took everything so seriously. How could she think anything she did would fall below the standard of others?

Hanah closed the hatch to the fire with an iron clang.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"You can't let him make you feel bad. You said nobles don't say what they mean or mean what they say. People say mean things, doesn't mean they're true."

"This is different. I don't want to talk about it."

"But you liked each other. What happened?"

"We're not talkin' about this!" Hanah had her back turned. Hemery could see her stiff shoulders.

Hemery froze. A lump formed in her throat.

Hanah had not used that sharp tone since Hemery was little, when she had climbed up on the stove to grab something off a high shelf, tipped over a pan, and almost scalded herself on the boiling water.

"Now," Hanah spoke low. "Go clean your teeth and wash your hands. It's time for bed."

Hemery did as she was told without another word.

* * *

The following week, Hemery felt like she was running from her own shadow. Every waking hour was spent keeping Hanah occupied with talking and singing, never letting her have a moment to herself. As soon as Hemery turned her back, or left Hanah to her own devices, even for a moment, Hanah would grow pale and her eyes distant. Every day, Hanah was more tired, more closed off.

When they attended market, Hemery forced her sister to take detours to avoid Fíli and Kíli. Once, when they had packed up to leave, she saw a group of dwarves including the dark-haired brother coming their way and Hemery suddenly stopped in her tracks. She was not sure the dwarves had seen them, or if indeed Lord Fíli was with them, but she had to do something—quick.

"Ow," Hemery exclaimed, her legs folding beneath her like those of a newborn lamb.

Hanah dropped her bag and fell to her knees next to her sister. By the side of the road, between stalls and rushing people, they were mostly shielded from view.

"What is it?"

"My ankle. I think I twisted it. I need to go to the healers."

"Let me see," Hanah said, lifting Hemery's foot.

"_Ow_," Hemery cried louder. "Don't touch it. I need to go to the healers."

"But you can't walk, and I can't carry you."

Hemery hurriedly pushed herself off the ground, hopping on one foot. "It's fine. I can just hold onto you for balance. Come on, hurry. _Ow_."

Hemery leaned on Hanah while jumping on one foot down the side path towards the nearest healers' tent which were erected in various places around town during the festival. More people meant more injuries to tend to.

However, as soon as Hemery got inside the tent and was offered a seat on a bench to wait for the examination of her foot, she instantly felt better.

"Are you sure?" Hanah asked, bewildered. "You almost fainted in the street."

"Yeah, you know, I think I just strained somethin'. It feels much better now that I've rested it." Hemery bent her foot with her toes pointing down, as proof.

"But you just sat down," Hanah reminded her.

"_I know_, right?" Hemery sounded very much surprised. "It's strange how it can just disappear like that."

A few days later, when Hemery saw Lord Kíli walking down the market street alone, she discretely emptied their water bottle under the table and asked Hanah to fetch more.

"I'm really thirsty. Please, Hanah," Hemery whined. She could see the dark mop of hair approaching their end of the street.

"Use Dwalin's," Hanah said.

"He doesn't have any water. He only has ale," Hemery explained. "He makes me get refills for him from The Dragon's Head."

Hanah looked over at the next table where the dwarf sat, leaning back, sharpening his blades. When noticing the older sister's gaze on him, he raised an eyebrow and his bottle in a salute. Clearly, he had overheard the conversation.

Hanah sighed. "You're the one who's thirsty, you go fetch water."

"I'll get lost."

It was true that the market had expanded and mutated into a monster of itself in the last few weeks, the stalls growing in size as well as numbers, turning big roads into many small paths lined with salesmen on all sides. But that Hemery would not find her way to the nearest water pump and back was an exaggeration of monstrous proportions equal to those of the market.

"Fine." Hanah grabbed the bottle and briskly walked down the path, quickly disappearing in the crowd.

Hemery heard Lord Kíli speak to her left a moment later. "Afternoon."

"Afternoon, lad," Dwalin muttered.

Hemery did not speak, nor did she look their way more than peripherally.

"_Afternoon_, lady Skinner," Lord Kíli said a little louder.

Hemery met his gaze then.

His face was perfectly pleasant, polite, and absolutely infuriating. Her jaw tensed by itself. But her sister was not there, he could do her no harm with his teasing, and Hemery had to keep a respectful front to any potential customers.

"Afternoon," she clipped.

"Business good?"

None of yours, she wanted to say. Carefree, irksome dwarf.

"Fine." Hemery continued to braid leather cords for bracelets, while keeping a discrete eye out for Hanah's return.

"I imagine business would be flourishing after my brother's sponsorship."

Since it was not a question, Hemery was not obliged to say anything, so she did not.

"Of course, his ability to show off your hard work to the public is limited when he's not in the city."

Something in his tone was provoking. Almost deliberately so.

"Has he moved?" Hemery asked without looking up. Nothing would bring her greater pleasure, but she did not know how Hanah would react.

"No. Though Thorin thought it convenient to send him away from the mountain. A temporary expulsion, as it were."

Dwalin scoffed loudly from his table, but did not speak.

Thorin was the name of the king, Hemery knew. How had Lord Fíli attracted the wrath of the king?

She looked up then. Lord Kíli had come very close, leaning on the table in front of her.

"What trouble has your brother gotten himself into this time?" Hemery prided herself in sounding very calm, though she was sure the satisfaction could be seen on her face. She did not flinch as she met his stare. He looked thoughtful.

"You know, that's the strange thing. He never told anyone about Hanah, not me, not mother—no one. And Hanah, the puritan, wouldn't sully herself by speaking of it, neither to brag nor gossip. Not to mention—she has no friends in all the world, except for the two of you."

Kíli pointed to Dwalin and Hemery.

"So who would go blabbing about it to Thorin—who has enough to worry about in the middle of the festival without dealing with malicious rumours which he then clubs my brother over the head with?"

"Malicious?" Hemery repeated in surprise. She was not sure what the word meant, but everything beginning with_ mal_ was bad. It sounded like a mix of malady and suspicious, like he thought her sister had been involved in something horrendous. "What did he say?"

"Thorin wanted to know why Fee had snuck around like a thief in the night, why he would subject himself and his office to the judgements of others—and he questioned Fíli's honour. Where would he get these ideas, hmm?"

Did Lord Kíli not think his brother deserved to have his actions questioned? To Hemery, King Thorin seemed pretty well informed.

Hemery slammed her hands down on the table and stood, making her head closer to his in height.

"True, though, ain't it?" Hemery snapped, challenging. She knew it was.

Kíli leaned even further toward her, peering at her.

"Was it you?"

Hemery just stared back.

She did not disregard the possibility that she was to blame for the king's knowledge of the events. The dwarf in the library did not seem like the sort of person who would condone aristocrats abusing their station, but she thought he would not be interested enough in the affairs of low craftsmen to act on it personally. If he, without her knowledge, had taken the matter further which resulted in the king's rebuke, she was not sorry. The dwarf had kept his word, Hanah had not suffered for it—Fíli had.

Kíli continued. "You did threaten to keep Fíli from ever seeing Hanah again, should he fail to live up to your demands. This would be a good start."

She almost laughed out loud at the thought. What a lark it would be to let him think she had that kind of influence on the king of Erebor. She wondered if she could...?

She kept her eyes glued to Kíli's, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated scepticism. "You want to know if I grassed on your brother_ to the king_?" She spoke slow and deliberate.

She shook her head in disbelief and leaned in until they were only inches apart, one corner of her mouth pulled into a mocking smirk. "Listen to yourself."

Kíli was silent a moment, taking in her words. If he thought she did, he was unable to prove it—he had to back down. He put a finger to the table top.

"I'm gonna find out how you did it," he promised her, as if rising to a challenge and relishing in the competition.

Hemery just stared at him, smug smirk still in place. She did not care if he did; the damage was done. Lord Fíli had already dropped a peg in the eyes of the king. She could not have planned it better herself.

"You tell your brother he'd better make himself really comfortable in that mountain, 'cause he'll never see Hanah again. And if the king scared him enough, he'll probably not find any woman's bed soft and welcomin' anymore."

Kíli raised his chin and looked down at her through narrowed eyes, evaluating her with a disturbing spark in his eyes.

"I don't doubt it. You do have something of the witch about you," Kíli said, fascinated. "Will you curse his manhood if he doesn't bend to your will?"

Hemery closed her hands into fists.

"Kee," Dwalin drawled from his seat at the other table. "Ye should go now." He spoke without breaking his movements with the whetting stone.

Lord Kíli straightened, pursed his lips, and nodded at Dwalin. As he turned to go, he threw Hemery one last determined look.

Neither Hemery nor Dwalin spoke when Hanah came back with the water.

"Here you go," she said.

"Thanks," Hemery muttered.

"I thought your were dyin' of thirst?" Hanah commented when Hemery did not touch the bottle.

"It passed."


	23. Chapter 23 - Unexpected Window

Thanks to Vanafindiel, huntressofartemis101, marulk, Skywolf42, LoboDiabloLoneWolf, Filiafamilias, FeeKilico, Rhyska Nevar, MidnightTales357, InezSophia!

Always a special thanks to Distorted Lullabies!

* * *

Chapter 23 - Unexpected Window

* * *

Hanah was restless. She barely slept. As soon as she closed her eyes, day or night, she would see Prince Fíli cold eyes looking back at her. It filled her with anger and sorrow, and left her torn and frayed inside. She thought about things she could have said, should have said, but never had.

And then she wanted to hit herself for allowing some dwarf to affect her so much that she could not eat or sleep properly. It was ridiculous, really.

She felt an urge to do things, to clean the house and fix the drafty windows. She even found herself taking apart and repairing Dwalin's sleigh which had crumbled under the small avalanche of snow from his roof last spring. They would need it in the winter, might as well do it now.

Hanah chopped wood and swept the chimney. She got rid of the nettles which were claiming more ground around the yard and cooked soup on them. She painted the front door and the windows. And when she finished theirs, she did Dwalin's as well.

She scraped the old peeling paint off the boards around the windows, before cleaning them with soap water and repainting them. Dwalin sat outside, smoking his pipe and commented on her work now and then.

"Had you planned on doin' this yourself, Master Dwalin?" Hanah said between her teeth as she scraped a particularly stubborn patch.

"No time."

"Then should you not be pleased you're gettin' it done for free, and leave it at that?"

"No sense in havin' it done half-arsed, either way."

Hanah's hand slipped, ramming her knuckles into the board, and cut herself on the scrape. She hissed in pain.

"_Fuck,_" she barked, and kicked the bucket of tools at her feet, making it fly several feet across the yard. It did not make her hand hurt less. "_Damnit._"

"Woah, lass. Have a care. It might be your work, but those are my tools."

Dwalin motioned for her come closer.

"Let's have a look at that."

Hanah sighed, but did as he asked. He took her injured hand and looked at it. The knuckles on her right hand reddened and her index finger had a line of small blood pearls.

"Tis nothin'. Put somethin' cold on it to keep it from swelling."

She followed him to the ice box in his kitchen.

"What's got you all wired up, lass?" he asked. He pulled out a piece of raw meat and pushed it roughly onto her hand.

"Ow—_shit_," Hanah hissed and took the ice from him.

"Get it out. Won't do for the wee one to hear yer cursin' when she comes home."

"I'm fine." Hanah kept her eyes on the meat. Pink drops of blood stained the cuff of her shirt.

"Don't beat yerself down like stone. It doesn't suit ye. It's makin' yer sister miserable. She's jumpy like a hen in a wolf den. You need to get over it."

"There's nothin' to get over. I'm just in a bad mood."

"Have been for the last few weeks it seems. What's he done?"

Hanah froze. "Who?"

"Fee. Figured he must've done somethin' to upset ye. He hasn't dared show his face for weeks."

Hanah kept her eyes averted. "Our business is done. He won't be comin' around anymore."

She left the kitchen and returned outside to the window. She heard Dwalin follow her. He knocked his pipe on the door frame. After a long moment, he spoke with a deep, worrying frown.

"Are ye breakin' off the courtship?" he sounded grave.

Hanah's eyes widened.

"Am I _what_?"

"I haven't said anythin', 'cause yer both adults in yer own right. But I think ye should consider it very carefully. Once broken, it would take a lot fer it to be picked up again."

Did Dwalin think there was an engagement between Hanah and Prince Fíli? Dwalin had probably seen Fíli coming to her house. How would she explain that their relationship had been of another kind?

"I'm not—" Hanah shook her head, blushing and losing her words. "He hasn't courted me."

"Peddle that shite elsewhere. I'm not daft." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I know what's goin' on. The visits, the gifts—it's all there. He's courted you for months."

Hanah's chest tightened. "No, he hasn't."

"Aye, he has," he insisted in a growl.

It did not make any sense. He had not said anything. She had not said anything. She had not seen anything which would indicate—

Hanah grew light-headed. Her thoughts were all jumbled.

She knew dwarves had different customs from men. Fíli had said so himself, but she had never learned what those were.

Fíli had been extraordinarily kind to her and her sister. He had come to call on her for no other reason than her company. He had kissed her, been very intimate with her, he had even said something about children—but never anything about marriage. She would certainly have remembered if he had! Except that once when he asked if she ever would consider marrying someone—and she had said no.

She would have dismissed the idea completely, had it been anyone other than Dwalin who brought up the topic. Hanah felt a headache coming on.

"Don't fuckin' play with me, Dwalin. What are you sayin'?"

"I'm sayin', he's been makin' ye comfortable, wrappin' ye up in pleasurable, pretty things, singing ye to sleep with his lullabies, until the time when ye know each other so well that ye can't be separated, and ye'll move to his home in the mountain and become his wife."

A dry sob escaped Hanah's throat. She forced away any other threatening to break forth.

"_But he's a prince_," her voice quivered like a leaf in a storm.

Dwalin shook his head at her. "Which means he can marry anyone he bloody pleases. No one will be allowed to analyse and criticize yer origin. None will ever get close enough to try."

"What about his family?"

He snorted. "Oh, they'll have opinions—and plenty of 'em. That does not change no matter who the lad decide to court. But it hasn't stopped him thus far."

Hanah drew a deep breath, like she had been drowning and just reached the surface.

"Why didn't he say somethin'?" she shouted. "Why did he pretend like it didn't. . . ?"

Why did she not ask? Why did he not stop her when she assumed all those things about his intentions? Why did she say all those things? Why could she not just have held onto him while she had the chance?

Hanah squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms to her forehead.

"So_ stupid_." She hit her palms against her head. Her hands were sticky from ox blood.

"Oy, stop that." Dwalin's voice was gentler now. He came to stand next to her, forcing her to lower her hands.

"Here," he said, beckoning her with his hands. "Hit me."

"What? I'm not gonna hit you." Hanah sounded miserable with a lump in her throat.

"Take a swing. Ye'll feel better." He held up his palms. "Here."

She looked at him a moment. He was dead serious.

Hanah took an unsteady breath and hit his palm with her right hand. She winced as pained blossomed in her swollen knuckles.

"What was that?" Dwalin grumbled. "Are ye pettin' a wee pony? _Hit me_."

She punched with her left. His hand barely moved.

"The Ladybug hits harder than that. Now, come on."

Hanah began to hit him in earnest, gritting her teeth while doing so.

"_Damn dwarves_," she grunted between hits. "Ridiculous—infuriatin'—bloody—_dwarves_!"

The final hit was with both fists to his palms, any pain in her hand gone from her mind.

"There ye go," Dwalin muttered, satisfied.

Hanah doubted he found her strikes to be worthy of the name, but he seemed to recognize that she gave it her best. She stood a while catching her breath, which turned into deep sighs. Fat, hot tears ran down her cheeks. She could not stop them, nor did she try.

Dwalin put his large, heavy hand on her head. He did not stroke her hair, just held it there.

Hanah closed the distance between them and pressed her forehead into his chest, her hands clutched his tunic. He let her lean on him while she cried silently.

He did not offer any words of comfort, advice, or promises of future happiness. Instead, he praised her posture.

"Ye have a solid stance," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Hanah soon calmed, but she stood there a moment longer, just breathing.

She had to let it go. She could not continue to walk around in a temper fueled with regrets and anger. It had happened quickly, and it would be forgotten quickly. It hurt now because it was fresh. It would fade, like everything else.

"He didn't do anythin'," Hanah confessed at last. "It's my fault he's not comin' back."

Hanah kept her eyes closed as she let the fire in her chest smolder and eat away at her heart as easily as burning paper.

Someday—it would fade.


End file.
